History's gonna change
by BlackNightmareDragon
Summary: Fate isn't written, it can always be changed. The Libyan had just one more bullet in his gun, setting off a chain reaction of events that throw Marty and Doc's lives upside down. Slight AU. Rated T for language, some violence, self-harm, suicide and blood. Now complete!
1. The Libyans

**A/N: RUN FER IT MERTY!**

 ***ahem* Sorry, anyway, I've been watching this trilogy over and over and** _ **over**_ **for ages, meaning to write something for it and, well, here we are! Sorry if it's a little angsty, it's just what a) I like writing best and b) I am best at writing. I felt like writing something aside from what I have been writing recently. I tried to keep them as close to their characteristics as possible. I'll probably continue this at some point, but with school and stuff I'll just have to see how much free time I get.**

 **You know what they say, if you put your mind to it you can accomplish anything! *shot***

 **Anyway, onward!**

… **..**

" _Noooo!_ You bastards!"

It had all happened so fast. All because of some damned terrorists. One minute the scientist was jumping around like mad, thrilled that his invention had worked; the next he was lying on the ground, rapidly bleeding to death.

Marty felt his heart in his throat. He darted forward to attempt to help his friend, forgetting about the group of Libyan terrorists mere feet from him. They opened fire, causing the teenager to run round the van to avoid the shower of bullets. The Libyans drove forward, catching Marty in the headlights of the wagon. The teen froze - this couldn't be happening. The Libyan at the top of the wagon pulled the trigger and the single remaining bullet flew out, striking Marty square in the stomach. His knees crumpled beneath him and his head hit the cold concrete.

The sound hit him before the pain. The sound of tyres on asphalt as the terrorists drove off quickly, leaving the teenager and the scientist on the ground. Marty couldn't feel his legs, his hands or - well, anything for that matter - beyond the searing, burning pain spreading across his chest like fire across paper. He was only vaguely aware of liquid soaking through his t-shirt, then his shirt, then his jacket.

He lifted his head up weakly, his vision already beginning to spin. He had to get help. If he didn't, both of them would be dead long before the mall opened. His eyes landed on a telephone box maybe twenty yards from him. Gathering up every last milligram of strength left in him, the teenager struggled to his feet, one hand on the van next to him for support, the other clutching his stomach in an attempt to slow the flow of blood. His hand left a bloody smear along the side of the van.

That twenty yards was to be the toughest fight of his life so far.

It hurt, oh boy did it hurt. Edging along the side of the van was the easy part. The hard part, however, was the fifteen yards between the end of the van and the phone booth, across a space of open parking lot that seemed as long as a football pitch.

 _Man up, McFly. You can do it. Just one foot at a time,_ Marty told himself as his arms shook and his legs threatened to give way beneath him. If he could just make it to that booth, he figured, he could die satisfied knowing that he had at least made _some_ effort to get help.

Ten yards left.

His legs were aching and his head was spinning from the blood loss, but he had to keep going. He couldn't stop now, not when he was halfway there. If he gave up now, both of them would die. He managed a look over his shoulder at his unconscious friend, before turning and focusing back on his destination. His blurring feet took him slowly, gradually closer to that holy grail of a phone booth.

Five yards.

This was it, he was going to die as soon as he made it. His body was screaming at him to let go, to give up. Its protests came in the form of blood rising in his throat and escaping from the sides of his mouth. He coughed, and the red liquid hit the ground in small droplets. The evening light hit it at such an angle that it appeared to cast the whole parking lot in a red glow. He was _so close,_ he couldn't give up now.

With a gasp, his soaked hands grasped onto the telephone and he shakily typed in the three life-saving numbers. With a few rings, a very tired-sounding woman answered.

" _911 what's your emergency?"_

"H-help…" Marty choked. The blood was making it hard to talk, and it didn't help that he was so dizzy and so _tired and in so much pain._ "We've b-been shot… Twin Pines Mall… we need help…"

His legs finally gave way beneath him and he cold floor seemed like a feather mattress to him in his current state. His vision was fading fast. The phone had fallen from his hands and hung by the cord, swinging left and right in front of him. The lady's voice vanished and the call ended as she rushed to get help.

Marty's eyes were closed. His hearing was muffled, as though he were underwater. The last thing he heard before losing all consciousness was a faint siren getting closer.

Bright light. Soft bedsheets. A faint beeping noise and heavy breathing. These are what awaited the teenager the next time he awoke. The light blinded him, causing him to squint and wince as his pupils shrunk.

" _MARTY!"_

That voice sounded familiar, but in his hazed state he failed to recognise it. That was until the tear-stricken face of his mother swam towards him through the fuzz of his vision.

"M-mom…?" Marty weakly croaked. His throat was sore and his chest hurt and he was so tired. The oxygen mask over his mouth rubbed against his face slightly, but the cool fresh oxygen it provided meant that he didn't want to take it off.

"Oh sweetheart thank goodness you're alright! We've been worried sick!" Lorraine exclaimed, breathing a huge sigh of relief. "What were you doing at the mall at half one in the morning?!"

Marty coughed a bit before answering. "Doc phoned, he wanted to show me his new invention…" he mumbled, before his eyes widened and he tried to sit up. "DOC!-ow!"

Lorraine held him down. "Don't sit up, you're hurt. As for Doc, let me go and get a nurse," she said as she stood up, heading towards the door.

Marty waited impatiently for her to return. Doc was his best friend, he _had_ to be okay. The scientist must have had something up his sleeve in case of an emergency situation such as that, he wouldn't be unprepared… would he? Marty shook his head; Doc was a smart guy, surely he would have thought about what could go wrong.

A nurse arrived a few minutes later, wearing a frown on her face. "I'm afraid that Emmett Brown is in a critical condition in the ICU. He suffered six bullet wounds to his chest and the surgeons were really fighting to keep him alive."

The news hit Marty like a freight train. Of course he was relieved that his friend was alive, but that relief turned to horror to hear that he might not make it. He wouldn't know what to do if Doc died. What would happen to the lab? To Einstein? All his possessions? He didn't have any relatives as far as he could tell, and therefore no next of kin. The inventor seemed too caught up in his work to find time for friends outside of Marty, so that idea seemed like a dead end too. Marty was the only person who really knew Doc well, and therefore the one who would be hit hardest if his friend passed away.

"C-can I see him?" he mumbled, looking up at the nurse with a hopeful gaze.

"I'm sorry, but you are in no fit state to leave this bed. You yourself almost perished, but if it hadn't been for you both you and Dr Brown would be dead." The nurse explained. "You will be under observation for forty-eight hours, and only when the doctors decide you're fit enough will you be able to visit your friend,"

Marty opened his mouth to protest, but realising the futility of the argument, he closed it again and nodded. There was no point arguing - after all, he knew Doc would be less than impressed if Marty hurt himself in an attempt to visit him. The nurse gave him a sad smile before exiting the room to return to her work.

The teenager relaxed into the pillows as Lorraine came back in, frowning. "Marty, I'm sorry about Dr Brown, I know you were his friend,"

"Am his friend," Marty corrected. "Doc isn't dead, he's gonna recover and he'll be just fine,"

Lorraine sighed. "...yes. He will be okay, now why don't you get some rest, hon?"

Marty nodded slowly, sinking into the pillows and pulling the covers up. The IV in his arm tugged a bit, so he laid his arm over the blankets. Lorraine kissed his forehead before heading out to let him get some sleep.

But the teenager couldn't sleep, no matter how tired he was or how hard he tried. His mind was wide awake, conjuring up images of his friend lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors, IVs and the like. For the first time in his life (apart from when Biff had once threatened his father in front of him when he was a kid, but he would never admit that) Marty McFly was scared. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want Doc to be in critical condition. He didn't want _any_ of this to have happened. Eventually his fatigue took over as he drifted off. However, sleep offered him no reassurance as his dreams were plagued with the same images, along with a replay of the night's events over and over. He murmured to himself in his sleep, shifting every so often but not once waking up.

The food at the hospital, Marty decided, was awful. It arrived late, cold and in tiny quantities. There was hardly any choice, neither option was particularly appetising and he'd rather just go home. Of course, still being under observation, he had to remain there. That didn't stop Lorraine and George bringing in sandwiches and other more-than-half-edible things from home for him. Jennifer had also stopped by with a couple of cupcakes for him, which the two of them had shared.

But even with the constant visits from his family and girlfriend, and even his Walkman to listen to, Marty still couldn't help but worry about Doc. After all as far as he knew the scientist was still seriously hurt, lying in a hospital bed with no-one but the monitors and IVs for comfort.

Soon enough, the forty-eight hour observation period ended and the doctors decided the teenager was well enough to go home. He was given strict instructions to take take it easy and not overexert himself. That meant no skateboarding until he was properly healed.

As soon as Marty was out of bed and back in his regular clothes (that hospital gown was itchy, uncomfortable and just plain awkward to be seen in) he headed straight to the front desk at the reception.

"Excuse me," he greeted the receptionist casually, "but I'd like to know which ward Emmett Brown is in,"

"Are you a family member?" The man behind the desk said, glancing up to look at the teen. He raised an eyebrow at him. "He's been moved from the ICU to another ward, but the staff there still don't want any old stranger visiting him."

Marty refrained from gulping. What was he supposed to do now? Tell the man that Doc didn't have any relatives and that he was a friend? Considering the fact that the staff clearly didn't want anyone visiting him who wasn't family, he opted for a lie. "I'm his nephew"

"Right," the man at the desk nodded and punched some buttons into his computer. "He's on the fifth floor, ward H, room 12,"

"Thanks," Marty grinned as he headed towards the elevator. He pressed the button for the fifth floor before standing in the corner, squeezed between an overweight guy who had clearly never heard of deodorant and the wall. Soon but not soon enough the doors opened with a _ping_ and he walked out, heading towards ward H.

 _Right, room 12…_ Marty looked along the corridor at the numbers put up above the doors to each room. Doc was on this ward somewhere, the only question was where was room 12?

"Aha! There we go," the teen said to himself as he approached the room marked with a number 12. The door was left ajar, and, looking around quickly, Marty pushed it open and walked inside.

The sight that met him was what he had expected, to be honest. Doc was lying in bed, an IV in his right wrist and an oxygen mask over his face. He seemed thin, or maybe that was just because of the lighting in the room. Pulling up a chair, Marty sat next to him, sighing.

"Geeze Doc, this is a mess." he said quietly, more to himself than the man next to him. He looked from his feet to Doc and then back at the floor. "I've been worried sick about you for the last two days,"

Doc twitched slightly but otherwise remained still. There was a large amount of sedatives in his system that were making it hard to move. Not to mention he was still weak from the incident, so those factors combined meant it was likely that he wasn't going to be waking up any time soon.

"This is heavy…" Marty murmured miserably. He didn't know what else to say. After all, what could you say to someone who was unconscious? "I wish you'd just wake up…"

He sat like that for… he had no idea how long. His whole body was numb, yet his mind was in overdrive. What if Doc didn't make it? What if the Libyans came back to finish the job? What if someone found out about where the missing plutonium had gone and the scientist was arrested? It wasn't until a nurse came in to tell him that visiting hours were over that he snapped out of his thoughts.

He stood up, looking at Doc before going out the door. He didn't want to turn his back on his friend - it hurt to - but the rules were the rules. As he headed down the hall towards the double doors marking the exit of the ward, the nurse hurried to catch up with him. Marty turned around to look at her, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"He's awake," was all she said as she rushed back to room 12.

Marty stood there, stunned for a moment, before running after her. His heart was pounding. Doc was awake?! Surely all those sedatives should have kept him under for a while. He skidded into the room to find Doc still lying in bed, but with the oxygen mask gone. But what was most important was that his eyes were open, and he was smiling at the teenager with a trademark Doc grin.

"Doc!" Marty exclaimed, dashing over to the bed. "Thank God you're okay!"

Doc smiled. "I thought I was dead for sure, but I'm glad to see that you're alright too,"

Marty sat on the chair beside the bed. "I was only let out today. They kept me in bed for two days, and nobody would tell me how you were doing,"

Doc squeezed Marty's hand. "I'm fine, well not as fine as I'd like to be but you get the idea,"

Marty chuckled. "I guess, the hospital isn't the ideal vacation destination,"

The inventor laughed, but broke out coughing, sitting up slightly and leaning forward. Marty frowned, rubbing his back. "I'm really sorry this happened to ya, Doc,"

Doc shook his head as his coughing fit ended, lying back in the bed. "Nonsense, it wasn't your fault. If it's anyone's it's mine, I was the one who got you caught up in that mess."

"I agreed to turn up," Marty pointed out. "So I guess we're both as at fault as one another,"

Doc shrugged. "I suppose. But there is one thing I still don't know, if we were both shot then who dialled 911?"

"I did," Marty replied, biting his lower lip. "I managed to get to the phone in the parking lot before I passed out, I just managed to dial 911 and tell them where I was and what had happened,"

The scientist looked at him with an expression of surprise. "That was you?"

"I had to, Doc," Marty sighed, leaning back in his chair. "If I hadn't, we'd've both died." Looking back on it now, he cringed at how pathetic he must have looked. But then again, he was glad he did get to the phone - he'd saved both of their lives.

Doc nodded, yawning slightly. Marty glanced at him before standing up. "I should probably let you get some rest,"

"That would be best," A nurse piped up as she came to check on Doc. "Besides, visiting hours have long since ended. You had better go home and get some sleep yourself,"

"Right, I need to check on Einstein," Marty said, then at Doc's confused look, he added: "I asked my mom to bring him home with us so I could look after him while you're in the hospital,"

"That's very kind of you, Marty, I appreciate it," Doc smiled, yawning again. Marty headed for the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow," He said, giving a wave as he left.

Doc settled down in the bed once the teenager disappeared and yawned once more, before closing his eyes and attempting to get some sleep.

Marty took a slight detour on the way home, past the Twin Pines mall. The truck, the DeLorean and anything else that was there on _that_ night was gone! The parking lot was empty, all that remained was some dried blood, shining on the asphalt in the evening light.

The teenager noticed his skateboard lying in the bushes at the edge of the lot, and quickly grabbing it, headed towards Doc's place. He could only hope that the DeLorean and Doc's truck were parked at the scientist's place.

The cool evening air made a nice change from the warm hospital Marty had spent the last two or three days in. Of course he would have preferred to skateboard to Doc's place, but being under the order from the hospital he decided it wasn't a good idea. So instead he walked, carrying the board under one arm.

It was rather frustrating, considering it took half an hour to walk to Doc's place when usually it would have taken five minutes on the board. Nonetheless when he arrived, he let himself in via the key hidden under the doormat (Doc REALLY needed to find a better place to put that key) and grabbed Einstein's bowl. He noticed the DeLorean was parked round the side of the building, which was good. The last thing either of them needed was _that_ falling into the wrong hands. The van was also parked there.

Letting out a yawn, Marty locked up again and headed home, taking Einstein's bowl with him. He was absolutely exhausted and needed some serious sleep. He figured that he could get as much sleep as he liked over the next couple of days, seen that he'd had to cancel his trip to the lake with Jen on account of the car being wrecked. Anyway, he was on orders from the hospital to take it easy, and since he was so tired, that was fine by him.

Yawning again, Marty pushed his front door open and headed inside. The first "person" to greet him was Einstein, tail wagging and panting happily. Marty smiled, patting his head. "Hey there Einy,"

Einstein barked and licked his hand. Marty grinned as he headed into the kitchen and set down the dog's bowl. "There ya go, boy," he grinned before heading to get something to eat from the fridge. He noticed a sandwich laying on a plate along with a can of Pepsi Free. Grabbing both, he headed towards the couch after making sure Einstein was fed, plonking himself down and turning the television on.

Immediately a news report came up about the attack a couple of days ago. The camera footage showed the area of the mall parking lot sectioned off with police tape, along with a couple shots of footage of the teenager and the scientist being wheeled off to hospital on stretchers. The memory of what happened made Marty gag, and he quickly turned the TV off.

Einstein whined a little and laid his head on the teen's knee. Marty smiled slightly and stroked his head, scratching the dog behind his ear. Einstein's tail wagged a little and he licked Marty's hand.

"Thanks Einy," he smiled.

"Marty?" George's voice could be heard from down the hall. "Son?"

"In here Dad," Marty called over the back of the sofa. Footsteps gradually grew louder as George McFly came over, sitting next to his son.

"How are you feeling?" George asked, looking to his son in concern.

"A little bit sick," Marty confessed. "But otherwise okay. I saw Doc earlier,"

"I heard he was in a serious condition," George frowned. "How is he doing?"

"He's stable now, thank God," Marty replied, leaning back slightly, still stroking the dog's head. "He woke up at about eight and I managed to see him then. He's glad we're looking after Einstein,"

"That's good, he's a good man," his father said. "Einstein has got to be the best behaved dog I've ever met,"

"He spends most of his time with an inventor, of course he is," Marty chuckled, taking a bite out of the sandwich. It was only when he'd swallowed the mouthful that he realized he was _starving_ , and quickly wolfed it down. George laughed.

"Hungry, eh kiddo? Got the munchies?"

Marty rolled his eyes at his father's childish dialect. "I haven't eaten since this morning," he retorted as he opened the can of Pepsi.

George nudged his son's side lightly. "You'll feel better soon kiddo,"

 _Yeah, Dad, that's the same thing the hospital told me,_ Marty thought with a hint of sarcasm. He sipped at the Pepsi before lying back, letting his hair fall over his eyes. "I hope so,"

"You'll be right as rain in no time," George assured, squeezing Marty's shoulder gently.

Marty nodded and yawned, rubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes. "Anyway, I think I'll just go to bed, I'm absolutely exhausted," he mumbled, getting up from the sofa and tossing the empty Pepsi can in the trash. He put his plate in the sink before heading to his room.

"Alrighty then," George said, getting up as well. Einstein padded over to his bed, placed by the window, and laid down. "See you in the morning."

"'Night," Marty said as he closed his bedroom door. He got changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. He fell asleep within minutes.


	2. Doc was right

_He was back in_ that _scene again, watching the events unfold right in front of him. Certain details seemed more prominent than others: the soft_ thud _as Doc's dying body hit the ground, the shine of moonlight on the barrel of the gun, the sparkle of early morning precipitation on the asphalt. If it hadn't been for the severity of the situation, Marty may even have thought it were beautiful._

 _But there was nothing beautiful about being shot. Not a single thing. He felt the pain erupt in his chest like a miniature explosion; he saw the gleam of anger in the Libyan's eyes; he smelled the stench of iron in his blood. The scene was seemingly much more graphic than he first remembered it, but maybe the adrenaline rush had obscured reality for him. Either way, the event was no less horrifying._

 _This time, however, things were different. There was no phone for him to run to. In fact, the entire town around him seemed to dissolve into a haze of swirling shapes and colours. All that remained clear were himself, Doc, the DeLorean and Doc's truck. He managed to scramble over to his friend, holding the scientist's hand in both of his._

" _Doc, listen, y-you're gonna be okay," His voice cracked as his words stumbled over themselves as he tried to speak, feeling as though his throat was full of treacle. "We'll get you to a h-hospital, a-and you'll b-be fine!"_

 _Doc turned his head weakly to look at the teenager. A thin trickle of crimson blood flowed slowly from the corner of his mouth. "M-Marty… there's nothing m-more you can do for me,"_

 _Tears were streaming down Marty's cheeks as he abandoned all attempts to keep his emotions under control. "Doc don't t-talk like that, p-please!" He stammered, petrified at seeing the light gradually leaving Doc's eyes. "You're gonna be okay!"_

 _Doc shook his head ever so slightly. "Goodbye, Marty," his voice was faint, but in the silence of the night it sounded like a foghorn. With that, his head rolled to the side and his eyes drifted shut._

" _DOC!" Marty screamed, shaking his friend's shoulders, attempting to rouse the still-warm body of the scientist. "Doc you can't die! PLEASE!"_

 _Marty was sobbing by this point, overwhelmed by what had happened. His own pain was entirely insignificant at this point, merely a blur. He knelt over Doc's corpse and wailed, praying that some higher being might pull his friend from death's cold grip._

" **DOC!"** Marty awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. His heart was pounding and he was drenched in cold sweat. As he went to rub his eyes, he felt warm tears still flowing from his eyes. Growling to himself, he wiped his face with his sleeve and laid back down, staring at the ceiling.

After a while, his mind began to conjure up shapes and swirls drifting across the ceiling. They chased and danced round each other, creating a beautiful ballet of colour. Marty blinked a couple of times, and the shapes vanished, retreating back to the corner of his imagination. The teenager looked to his clock, the glowing numbers reading 2:37am. He had school in the morning. He would have to get more sleep. Relaxing back into his pillow, he closed his eyes again and allowed the swirls to return, which performed a complicated series of dances across the insides of his eyelids.

He must have fallen asleep at some point during this time, as all of a sudden the swirls became visions of himself, playing guitar, skateboarding and doing other regular daily activities. He was thankful the nightmare didn't return to haunt him again and deprive him of any more sleep, but he secretly dreaded the time when it would.

Marty was still yawning as he trudged into school the next morning, his bag hanging off one shoulder. He was on time, something he didn't expect. Mr Strickland looked at him as he walked in, eyebrow raised in surprise.

"Well McFly, I'm impressed. You must have put extra effort into getting up this morning," he said, his facial expression reflecting that of a parent whose child had managed to not touch anything at the museum. "Keep it up and you might avoid demerits,"

Marty rolled his eyes, muttering "thank you" under his breath before heading to his first class of the morning: math. He hated math, not to mention his teacher was the most boring old coot that ever lived. It was as if the school had decided to employ someone with absolutely no clue of how children worked. Frequently the teacher, Mr Farthing, would ramble on about how 'back in his day' children were seen and not heard, along with other such drivel.

Marty tossed his bag down under the desk and started to fish inside it for his homework, which was due that lesson. Being in the hospital had meant he had had no opportunity to complete it, so he figured the five minutes at the start of the lesson where everyone was still filing in would be the ideal time to do it.

As he searched his bag for a pen, Mr Farthing walked up to him, peering at him through his inch-thick spectacles.

"What's this? Forgot to do your homework, McFly?" he said in his monotonous voice, "Tut tut,"

"Didn't you hear sir?" Marty replied as he looked up, his left hand clutching a biro pen. "I was in the hospital all weekend,"

"I heard, surely all of that time lying down didn't mean that you had no chance to do your homework?" Mr Farthing looked at him scrutinizingly. "Until you give me a valid reason, I'm afraid you will have to stay after school to complete it."

"But sir, me and Doc were shot!"

"Dr Brown is bad news, McFly, he is a complete nutcase. You will do well to stay away from him,"

"He is NOT a nutcase!" Marry snapped. "He's my friend!"

"It seems as though he has already had a negative effect on you," Mr Farthing droned. "Too bad,"

Marty growled. As more students arrived, the teacher went on with actual _teaching._ Marty sat through the lesson in silence and, as he was leaving, dumped a fully-completed homework sheet on Mr Farthing's desk before following the others out.

"Hey McFly!" A voice called to him as he was gathering his books from his locker.

Heaving a sigh, Marty turned round to face the source of the voice: Tiff Tannen, Biff's kid. There he was, as usual being followed by his trio of delinquents, Michael, Katrina and Alex. "What do you want Tannen?"

"Nothing," Tiff said innocently, looking at Marty with fake sympathy. "I heard you and your 'friend'," he said the word as though it were made of caramel, "were shot,"

"Yeah, what about it?" Marty said, crossing his arms.

"Serves the dangerous old fart right," Michael sneered.

Marty growled. "Hey leave Doc out of this,"

"Sticking up for your precious 'Doc'?" Tiff sneered. "Don't be so pathetic, McFly,"

Marty rolled his eyes and turned away, heading towards his next lesson.

"What's the matter McFly? Feeling butthurt?"

Marty groaned and kept walking. He wasn't going to let Tiff ruin his day.

"Why don't you teach me a lesson, huh?" Tiff's voice continued to echo down the hall. "Or are you too much of a _chicken?!"_

Marty stopped dead in his tracks. _Ignore him, he's just trying to wind you up,_ he told himself as he kept walking.

"Little chicken McFly!" Alex laughed.

A growl escaped Marty's throat as he stopped again. _Chicken, eh?! I'll show him who's chicken!_ He had turned halfway to face the group, but the bell rang. He took that as his cue to get to History before he got into trouble. Saved by the bell, as it were.

 _That was a close one._

The rest of the day passed without incident, thank goodness, and Marty was relieved to finally hear the bell at the end of the day. He collected his things, shoved them roughly into his backpack and began heading for the hospital.

It took twenty minutes to walk there, during which time Marty had the opportunity to think. To think about what had occurred over the past few days. He also couldn't help but think about the DeLorean and what it was capable of. He'd seen it jump through time with his own eyes and his mind grew curious as to what exactly was possible when one possessed the ability to manipulate time. Maybe he could go forward thirty years and see what his future held, or perhaps backwards to see how his great-great-grandparents had lived, possibly even stopping the Tannen family from causing so much trouble.

Time, Marty thought, seemed to be a pretty fragile thing. If he were, to say, break up his parents' marriage before he was born, would he cease to exist? What if his parents were killed when he was a kid? Whose hands would he fall into then? It seemed to him that even the smallest change could have serious repercussions on the fabric of time.

 _Listen to me,_ Marty chuckled to himself. _I sound just like Doc._

Speaking of the scientist, he felt bad having left him all day in a hospital bed on his own. He could at least have brought something with him. Passing a shop, Marty stopped for a moment. He fished inside his bag for something and his hand soon withdrew a slightly crumpled but still fully valid five-dollar note. Stepping inside the shop for a moment, he purchased a small packet of lemon sherberts before heading onwards to the hospital.

The double doors to ward H swung open as the teenager walked in, heading straight to room 12. Doc was looking at a newspaper, a pencil held in one hand. Almost effortlessly, he filled in the various puzzles in the back before tossing the pencil aside.

Marty stepped in, smiling. "Hey Doc,"

"Hello Marty," Doc smiled as he put the paper down. "How was school?"

"The same boring place it's always been," the teen replied with a smirk. "What about you? How are you?"

"Not too bad, I suppose," Doc answered, sitting up a bit. "Still sore,"

Marty frowned and handed him the sweets. "I got you these on the way here,"

"Thanks," Doc grinned, taking them from him. "So what happened at school to make it so boring?"

Marty groaned loudly sitting down in a chair and slouching, causing the collar of his body warmer to slide up over the lower half of his face. "Everything,"

Doc laughed. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad, Marty, you're over exaggerating again,"

"Am not!" Marty retorted, but let a faint smirk fade onto his face. "First off I had Strickland's snarky comment about how I was actually on time for once, then my math teacher said that being in the hospital from being _shot for God's sake_ was no excuse to have not done homework. THEN Tiff started having a go at me for one reason or another, called you a 'dangerous old fart'," - at that Doc let out a laugh - "and then started calling me chicken cause I walked off to class. I woulda punched him, too, if it hadn't been for the bell,"

Doc sighed, sitting up straight on the bed. "It seems to me that Tiff managed to get to you, again. This isn't the first time he's called you chicken, is it?"

"No," Marty admitted. "It really pisses me off, I just wanna punch that guy in his stupid fat face,"

"Marty," Doc's tone of voice changed from amused to serious in the blink of an eye. "You have _got_ to stop taking offence every time someone calls you a chicken. If you keep reacting like that one of these days you'll land yourself in serious trouble,"

"I know," the teenager sighed. "I just can't help it,"

"Well you'll have to learn to 'help it'," Doc sighed. "You can't punch someone whenever-"

"I know!" Marty snapped. He knew Doc was telling the truth, and he knew he should listen, but he was just so frustrated and tired that his anger got the best of him. "I came here to see how you were doing, not for you to lecture me on my behaviour!"

"Marty," Doc warned. "One of these days you'll realise that reacting to something like that will get you in trouble. I understand your day has been tough but you'll just have to soldier on and get over it,"

"That's easy for you to say!" Marty exclaimed. "You've spent all day in a nice safe hospital room with nice nurses and not having to worry about anything!"

"Marty listen to me!" Doc snapped. "I'm serious, you _will_ get hurt if you keep reacting to people calling you names. They do it to _get a reaction,_ so by retaliating all you're doing is giving them what they wanted,"

Marty growled. On the inside, he knew the scientist was right. A part of his mind was telling him to calm the heck down and take a moment to breathe. Unfortunately the rest of his brain was still furious. "Why should I listen to you, huh?! It's not like you'd understand!"

With that, he stood up and exited the room, leaving without so much as a 'goodbye' or even looking at Doc. He stormed down the hall and through the double doors, ignoring the annoyed looks from various staff members he received as he went.

 _Stupid old coot, what does he know?! It's not like he knows how much of a pile of manure my life is._

Doc sighed. He figured Marty just needed time to calm down, think things over. The teen was going to get himself in serious trouble one of these days, he just hoped it wouldn't be soon. He knew what he'd said would annoy the teen - of course it would - but one day Marty would understand what he'd meant and would come to appreciate it.

Doc was released from hospital a few days later, and was given a lift back home by a friendly doctor. He smiled as he noticed his van and the DeLorean were parked outside; that meant no awkward explanations as to what all the equipment was and what he was even _doing_ with a DeLorean in the first place. Not only were they rare, one converted in such a way as his would really get questions flying his way.

He fished out the key from under the mat on the doorstep and unlocked the door. The place inside was exactly how he'd left it about a week ago - a complete mess. Papers were littered across the floor and half-finished pieces of machinery and other technology were scattered round the garage. He noticed Einstein's bed and bowl were missing, most likely at the McFly's house.

Speaking of Einstein, he headed across to his phone and began calling the McFly's home number. After a few moments, Lorraine answered. She sounded drunk; after all, Marty had informed him that she did have a tendency to drink. " _Hello?"_

"Hello Lorraine, it's Emmett Brown," Doc greeted the woman. "I've just arrived home from the hospital. Would it be alright if I came round to pick up Einstein?"

" _Yes of course, he's your dog after all,"_ Lorraine replied. " _He's incredibly well behaved, he's been no trouble at all,"  
_  
"That's good to hear," Doc smiled a little. "I'll be round in fifteen minutes,"

" _Alright, see you then,"_

"Bye," Doc hung up the phone and took the keys to his truck (which had been conveniently been placed on the table), pocketing them. He opened his front door, locking it behind him as he headed to the truck. The scientist climbed in, started the truck, and pulled out of his driveway, heading towards the McFly's house.

"Marty! Doc will be round in fifteen minutes!" Lorraine called to his son.

Marty was sitting on his bed, holding his guitar in his hands, a glazed look in his eyes. His left hand was perfectly fine, his right, however, was encased in a cast. White plaster kept his hand still and covered his arm from the wrist up to the elbow. He'd been in a car accident the previous day: Needles had egged him on in a drag race with the family car and, upon being called chicken, accepted the offer. He'd collided with a Rolls Royce, broken his hand and nearly destroyed the family car completely.

His mother had been furious: that meant another few thousand dollars to have the car replaced _plus_ the Rolls Royce owner's insurance meant that they had to pay for the damage to that as well, coming to a total of $5000. Overall that meant over ten thousand dollars in costs. All because Marty had retaliated when someone called him chicken.

Now he was sat on his bed moping, staring at the guitar longingly. He was under orders to use his right arm as little as possible for the next seven weeks until his cast was removed, then three weeks after that. That meant absolutely no guitar. It also meant that he would have trouble at school with his work - he was right-handed after all - which would lead to disappointed looks from the teachers.

 _I'm such an idiot,_ he scolded himself for his stupidity. _Doc was right, and all I did was shout at him. Now look where I've ended up. I deserve this._

The sound of the doorbell pulled him from his thoughts as he got up, opening the door and going into the hall. He pulled the door open to reveal Doc, with one eyebrow raised.

"Oh, hello Marty,"

"Hey Doc," Marty stepped back to let him in, refusing to look at him. "I'm sorry about the other day, you were right,"

Doc sighed, noticing the teen's injured hand. "What did I tell you?"

"I know, I was being an idiot and I deserve this," Marty sighed, gazing at his feet. "I'm sorry,"

"Hey," Doc placed a hand on his shoulder, lifting Marty's chin up to face him. "It's okay, I'm sorry you got hurt, but hopefully you'll know better in future, right?"

Marty smiled a bit. "Yeah,"

A couple of loud barks were heard as Einstein came barreling into the room, tail wagging frantically as he ran over to Doc. Doc's demeanor changed in the blink of an eye and he grinned widely, kneeling down and ruffling the dog's fur. "Hello Einy! I've missed you!"

Einstein put his front paws up on Doc's knees and licked his face, tail still wagging like a mad snake. Marty grinned. "Someone's missed you,"

Doc laughed, attaching Einstein's leash and getting the bowl and the bed. "Thanks for looking after him for me,"

"It was no trouble at all," George smiled. "It's good to see you back on your feet,"

"Good to be back on them," Doc chuckled. "Hospitals are not fun places, and being stuck lying down in one all day did my head in,"

"I can imagine," Marty muttered. He lifted his right hand up, running his eyes over it before letting his arm fall back down to his side.

George frowned and crossed his arms. "Now Marty, you knew that was a stupid thing to do, so stop acting like it's the universe's fault when really it's your own,"

"I know Dad," Marty rolled his eyes. "And I'm banned from playing the guitar for two months, so I think I know not to do it again,"

"I know son, I'm just teasing," George smirked and ruffled Marty's hair, causing the teenager to yelp and swat his hand away, flattening his hair down.

"Dad!" He whined, casting a split-second look over his shoulder at Doc.

Doc chuckled. "Relax Marty, it's not like he's attacked you,"

Marty rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

"Well, I'd better get Einstein here home," the scientist said. "I'll see you later,"

"Bye," George smiled and headed back into the kitchen, where he was working on some papers.

"See ya later, Doc," Marty waved with his left arm as Doc and Einstein got into the truck and reversed out the drive, going up the road and out of view.


	3. The past and the future

"Urgh… what now…?" A still half-asleep Marty rolled over in bed, reaching for the phone ringing on his bedside table. It was eight am on Saturday the ninth of November, so who could possibly be calling him at this hour? He'd hoped to get a lie in, but it seemed like that wouldn't be happening. He pulled the phone to his ear, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes. "Hello?"

" _Marty! Glad you're up! Listen, can you meet me at my place in an hour, I need to test the DeLorean again,"_

"Doc, it's… it's eight in the morning, can't this wait until later?" Marty groaned sitting up slightly in bed. "Surely it's not that important,"

" _But it is! If something goes wrong with the time dials I could be in a lot of trouble! Someone has to be there to witness it in case a missing person report gets filed, and you're the only person I trust,"_

Marty yawned again. "Fine… give me an hour and I'll be round,"

" _Right! See you then!"_

The teenager put the phone down and got up, rubbing his eyes. He opened his bedroom door and headed for the shower.

Once he was dressed, he grabbed a piece of toast and his backpack. "Mom! I'm going out!"

"Where are you going this time?" Lorraine came into view, hands on her hips.

"Doc's place, I won't be long!" Marty called over his shoulder as he quickly ate the toast, grabbing his skateboard and Walkman and heading out the door.

Skateboarding. He'd missed it. He was officially allowed to do it again since the hospital had said he had healed enough, and he was thankful. Travelling on the board through town was one of his favourite things to do. Pushing his foot across the ground, he sped up and grabbed hold of the back of a passing car. His speed instantly increased and he took a deep breath, appreciating the moment of freedom. Changing cars for a little while, he eventually came to a halt outside Doc's place. He grabbed his board and turned his Walkman off as he pushed the fence open and knocked on the door.

It took seconds for Doc to answer, opening the door and inviting him in. "Hey Marty!"

"Hey Doc, for the record, next time you want my help with something, can you call me when it _isn't_ eight in the morning? I was still asleep,"

"Sorry about that," Doc smirked, clearly _not_ sorry for waking the teen up. Marty shoved him, which caused the scientist to laugh. "Hey!"

Marty smirked back. " _That's_ for waking me up," he said smugly as he crossed his arms.

Doc raised an eyebrow. "Well sorry Sleeping Beauty, but I'm sure you can get sleep another time."

Marty scoffed and shoved him again. "So where is the DeLorean anyway?"

"It's in the back of my truck, come on," The scientist gestured for Marty to follow him over to the truck. "For obvious reasons I can't test it here, hop in and I'll take you to the abandoned airfield a few miles out from here,"

"But wouldn't the runway be a bit rough to get the car up to eighty-eight?" Marty frowned as he hopped in the passenger's side. "It's been out of use since the forties,"

"It should be fine, it was built as a temporary air force base during the Second World War, meaning the runway should be fine," Doc replied, getting in the driver's side and starting the van. The engine coughed into life and the pair pulled out of the driveway, heading north to the abandoned air force base.

Marty looked out the window of the old truck as the town scenery gave way to fields and trees. This time of year was much nicer than during the summer, with temperatures easily reaching 35℃. Now the temperatures were much more mild. Sure, being in California meant that there was a very low chance of snow, but it was pleasant.

His thoughts drifted back to _that_ night, and what would have happened if he hadn't been shot. What if he had made it to the DeLorean and gone to another time. Doc had set the destination time for November 5th 1955, right? That was around the time his parents first met. He might have been able to see them as teenagers. But then that opened up the possibility of messing up something in the past, perhaps even preventing his own birth.

Marty shook his head at the thought. It was making his brain hurt.

"Everything alright, Marty?" Doc's voice snapped him out of his thoughts completely.

"Y-yeah! I was just thinking about what could have happened if I'd gone back to 1955 two weeks ago," Marty shrugged.

"Probably something disastrous, no doubt," Doc smirked.

Marty laughed. "Yeah, imagine that. My mom could have fallen for me instead of Dad,"

Doc laughed. "Don't assume everyone from every timeline would want to date you, Marty. No one likes a hothead,"

Marty shot the scientist a glare. "If you weren't driving right now I'd punch you,"

Doc laughed again. "How's your hand?"

The teenager looked at his right hand, still encased in a cast. He was glad to change the subject. "Still hurts and this damn cast is really itchy. Mom told me off the other day for attempting to use a fork to scratch my arm. It got stuck"

Doc snorted with laughter. "Not one of your brightest moves,"

Marty rolled his eyes but smirked anyway. "How are you doing?"

"Not too bad, to be honest. I saw the doctor the other day and he said I should be just fine. Apparently I had a lucky escape,"

Marty nodded. "Yeah, I was pretty freaked out when I heard about you,"

Doc squeezed Marty's shoulder gently. "Well we're both fine and that's that,"

Marty grinned. He turned his attention to the dilapidated old buildings they were approaching. They seemed to be old aircraft hangars. "That it?"

"Yep," Doc parked the van at one end of the runway and pressed a button on the dashboard. Some creaking and the sound of a door opening was heard and Marty jumped out. He walked round to the back of the van to see the ramp had lowered.

"Come on, give me a hand," Doc walked round the side of the DeLorean to the front and Marty gave him a hand (just one, mind you) pushing the vehicle out of the van. The car rolled down the ramp and came to a stop a few yards from the rear of the van. Doc and Marty followed the car out. Doc began checking the car over, making sure it had enough fuel, that the tyres had plenty of air in them etcetera.

"What time are you going to?" Marty asked, leaning on the side of the DeLorean as he watched Doc walk round it, the scientist muttering to himself.

"Well I've always wanted to visit the Old West," Doc mused. "How about you?"

"I wanna go into the future, maybe a couple of thousand years. See what becomes of humanity then," Marty shrugged. "But hey, it's your time machine,"

"I'm sure I could take you along too," Doc grinned. "After all it would be like we never left!"

"True,"

"Right, it's all set," Doc stood up straight and looked at Marty. "Could you grab my suitcase out the truck?"

"Sure," Marty headed back over to the truck and brought out the large brown suitcase placed in the front. "What's in here?"

"A few spare clothes, cotton underwear, other essentials," Doc replied nonchalantly as he locked the van up. "You got everything?"

"Yep, I left my skateboard in the truck but my bag's here," Marty held it up.

"Right, hop in then," Doc climbed in the driver's side as Marty joined him. Pressing some numbers on the keypad, he set the destination time for June 1st 1870. He turned the time circuits on and started the DeLorean. "Ready?"

"Yep, let's go," Marty replied with a grin.

Doc nodded, pressing his foot on the accelerator and turning the car round so they had a good clear stretch of runway in front of them. The scientist increased the speed of the car, and as soon as eighty-eight miles an hour hit, blue sparks appeared on the front of the car. Flames burst out from underneath the tyres and the DeLorean vanished.

All of a sudden, the hangars, roads and runway vanished, being replaced by wooden houses and a ranch. In the path of the car was a huge oak tree.

"Great Scott!" Doc quickly veered to the left and the DeLorean drove right across a field. He brought the car to a stop by a forest that Marty was sure wasn't there in 1985. The two got out and took in their surroundings.

Not far from their current position was a small town, composed primarily of houses, shops and businesses made of wooden planks. Instead of asphalt mapping out the roads, dusty dirt tracks marked where people had gone. The biggest building in the town was the saloon, standing opposite the marshal's office. Several horses were tied up outside various buildings.

"Incredible," Doc breathed, looking the town over. He turned to the car and pulled out a suitcase from the trunk. Opening it, Marty noticed that inside were several sets of western-style clothes, including two hats and some boots. Doc tossed Marty a set of clothes.

"We'd better get changed, we can't walk around 1870 wearing this," he stated.

"What about my cast?" Marty asked. His knowledge of history was pretty poor, to be fair, but even he knew that plaster casts were not around in the 1800s.

In response to that, Doc tossed him a square piece of cloth that had been tied up to form a sling. "You'll have to keep your arm in that, you can't risk using it,"

"Right," Marty nodded.

Soon they had both changed. Doc was wearing some brown pants with an off-white shirt and a blazer, sporting a hat to match his boots. Marty had on a similar outfit, with a waistcoat and his right arm in a sling. He'd managed to remove the cast and had put it in the trunk of the DeLorean with their clothes from 1985.

"I think we'd fit in rather well," Doc commented, looking Marty over. "Come on,"

"Wait Doc! Don't tell me we're going to be _staying_ here!" Marty exclaimed. "I thought we were just here to look around!"

"Of course we are, but if you turned up in jeans and a T-shirt then you'd likely be shot," Doc replied as he began walking back towards the town. Marty sighed and followed him.

Few of the residents paid them any attention. A couple of people glanced at them but they were otherwise ignored. Doc was strolling around as if he was at an amusement park. This was incredible! He was really in the Old West! He'd been fascinated by this era ever since he was a young lad, and now he was finally here!

Marty was looking round with an equal sense of wonder. He'd seen plenty of imitations of the Old West on TV but seeing it in the flesh was something truly cool. He'd seen just about every Clint Eastwood movie and had thought the West was full of gun-slinging cowboys, drunk citizens and fighting. Looking round, he was actually a little disappointed at how peaceful the town was.

That didn't last long. Suddenly a group of men on horseback came galloping into the centre of town, dragging a scrawny blond-haired man with them. They were jeering and shooting in the air.

Marty grabbed Doc's arm and pulled him out the way of the horses, off to the side of a building. The two men crouched by the wall, observing the scene unfold before them.

The blond man was thrown to the ground by one of the men, who appeared to be the leader. The smaller man scrambled to his feet and ran off, jumping and weaving as a couple of the men shot at the ground beneath his feet. The residents of the town retreated under cover.

Marty gulped, going pale. "The Old West still as good as you thought?"

"It's a little rough," Doc admitted. "Still fascinating."

"Hey MARCO!" One of the men had noticed Doc and Marty. "Fresh meat!"

Marty swallowed hard. This was not good at all.

The leader, evidently named Marco, turned his attention to the two. A sickening grin came to his face as he reached for his gun.

"Now boys," Doc stepped forwards, his voice calm but stern at the same time and his hands raised in a position of surrender. "We don't want any trouble,"

"BOYS?!" Marco roared. "You are in no position to call us boys, old man. We don't take kindly to strangers around here, do we?"

"No sir!" The rest of the men on horseback chorused.

"Exactly," Drawing his gun, Marco aimed to shoot the scientist. Marty gulped and stood next to him.

Marco smirked in a way that froze blood. "Erwin! Give me that rope!"

A second man, with thick eyebrows and a square jaw, tossed him a thick rope.

Marco swung the rope around his head and threw it towards Doc.

Marty saw what was coming and was ready for it. He shoved Doc hard out of the way and ended up with the rope looped around him. Marco didn't seem to care as he pulled the rope tight and yanked on it. Marty was pulled over towards the group.

Erwin and another man got off their horses and grabbed Marty by the arms. The teenager let out a cry of pain as his right arm was jolted forcefully. Marco raised his gun and aimed at Marty's chest. Marty went pale and froze in place. He was shaking slightly.

Seizing his opportunity at being ignored, Doc grabbed a gun from the saddlebags of one of the horses and aimed it directly at Marco's head. "You let him go, or I _will_ shoot,"

"Oh really?" Marco sneered. He nodded at one of the men who remained on horseback. The man also drew a gun and aimed at Doc. "Then he'll shoot you,"

"Doc!" Marty yelped, struggling in the arms of the two men. He cried out in pain again when one man pulled on his right arm.

Doc gulped and dropped the gun. Now he had no idea what to do. No matter what he did, Marty would end up being shot.

Marco sneered. He nodded at the two men still on horseback. On cue, the two men grabbed Doc and lifted him onto one of the horses. Marty was also hauled onto a horse and both newcomers were hauled off to the local jail. They were thrown inside a cell, the door was locked and they were left.

"This isn't good," Doc muttered, stating the obvious as he leaned against the wall.

"No shit Sherlock," Marty sighed. He looked down at his hand, taking note of severe bruising on his thumb. He frowned and pulled his wrist closer to him.

Doc looked across to him and sighed. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this mess Marty, I should have left you back in 1985,"

"You didn't know this would happen, and besides, I agreed to come with you," Marty replied.

"The DeLorean!" Doc slammed his hand against the wall in frustration. "They'd better not find it, if they do who knows what'll happen to us,"

"Yeah this is heavy," Marty sighed. His eyes drifted around the room and came to stop on a liquor bottle lying in the corner. An idea came to his head. Thinking about it for a moment, he nodded to himself.

"Hey Doc?"

"Yeah?" Doc looked up.

Marty pointed at the bottle. "We could use that to knock the guard out. If we got into a fight the guard might come and break it up, then we'd whack him!"

Doc hummed in thought. "That could work,"

"Well come on then!" Marty got to his feet and raised his left arm in a defense position.

"Oh no Marty," Doc shook his head as he stood up. "An argument, maybe, but I'm not fighting you. I don't want to risk you getting hurt even more,"

"We have to!" Marty exclaimed. "The guard needs to be in here in order for us to knock him out,"

"Alright," the expression on Doc's face clearly portrayed his disapproval of this particular plan, but seeing that they had no choice, he swung a punch at the teenager.

Marty dodged, swearing loudly to attract the guard's attention. "This was your fault!" He shouted.

"MY FAULT?!" Doc screamed, stepping sideways as Marty kicked at him. "This was all your doing. You're lucky I didn't shoot you there and then!"

"I'm disappointed you didn't!" Marty snapped, a small smirk on his face. "That way I wouldn't be stuck in here with a delusional old windbag!"

"I AM NOT DELUSIONAL!" Doc shouted, swinging another punch.

The guard clearly overheard the commotion, as soon footsteps could be heard heading down the hall towards them. "Alright what is going on in here?!"

Doc had Marty in a headlock at this point and the teenager was still struggling, spouting profanity and attempting to lash out at the scientist. The guard unlocked the door and pulled Doc away from the teen. "Break it up before you both get hanged!"

Marty grabbed the bottle and smashed it over the guard's head. The bottle exploded into a thousand fragments and ceased to exist. The guard had a momentary bewildered look on his face, before falling to the ground with a _thud,_ out cold.

Doc blinked. "Well that worked better than I expected,"

Marty sighed in relief. "Good thing too, c'mon," he headed out the open cell door and Doc followed, both of them listening out for any other guards who may be nearby. The corridor was damp and looked as though it hadn't been cleaned since it was built. There was a foul stench of vomit and blood which made Marty want to throw up. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat as they got to the door.

Marco and his gang could be seen standing outside the saloon with their horses tied up next to them. Doc pulled Marty behind some barrels and both of them crouched out of view, peeking round the corner.

"We need a distraction of some kind," Doc whispered, looking across the town towards the trees where the time machine was hidden. "Otherwise they'll shoot us point-blank,"

Marty looked up at the stall beside him. They were right by the greengrocer's, and several crates of fresh fruits and vegetables stood outside the shop. The teenager grabbed an apple and, standing to his full height, threw it at the horses. The apple bounced off the flanks of one of the horses, causing the animal to spook and break free from the reins. It took off down the street and a startled Marco and his gang jumped on the remaining horses and took off after it, the man owning the missing horse sharing that of someone else.

"Now!" Marty hissed as he ran out from where he was hiding, sprinting across the town. Doc ran next to him, both men heading for the woods. Doc had pulled ahead slightly, and didn't notice Marty trip and fall over a rock. Marco heard this, and turning round, drew his gun as Marty got back on his feet and kept running.

A single gunshot rang out before the man on horseback galloped after the rest of the men. Doc heard it and stopped, whirling round. He gasped at the sight.

Marty was lying face-down on the ground, curled up slightly and clutching his side. A dark red liquid was soaking through his shirt.

"Great Scott…" Doc immediately ran over and hauled Marty to his feet, bringing the teen's right arm over his shoulders. Marty gritted his teeth as he kept pressure on the wound on his side, not caring in the slightest about his arm. He did his best to walk forward, his struggle made somewhat easier by Doc's help. His side felt like it was on fire and he was painfully reminded of that night two weeks ago, or was it over a century in the future?

Doc pulled Marty onto a horse and after climbing on himself he kicked the horse forward towards where the car was hidden, one arm around the teenager. The scientist frowned noticing Marty was going pale. "Hang in there kid,"

The horse came to a stop by the DeLorean and Doc lifted Marty off, smacking the horse to make it run off. It did, and Doc pulled the passenger side door to the car open and laid Marty inside. Climbing into the driver's side, he froze. He couldn't take Marty back to 1985 in his current state, that would lead to too many questions about how he managed to get shot and what on Earth he was wearing. On the other hand he couldn't stay here - hospitals weren't great and Marty would likely die of infection. Now what was he supposed to do?!

Biting his lip, he put in a different destination time and started the car. He reversed out the trees and turned to face a long, straight dirt road. He brought the DeLorean up to eight-eight miles per hour and with a loud sonic boom, the car was gone.

…

 _ **CRAACK!**_

"Shit!" Doc swore as the car came to a _very_ abrupt halt. The front of the car was buckled and one of the tyres had been ripped off as the car had collided head-first with a thick tree. He was lucky the DeLorean was rear-engined, it would likely have exploded.

Marty yelped. "G-geeze Doc!"

"Sorry Marty," Doc sighed as he got out and looked around. Something was terribly wrong. The destination time he'd put into the time circuits was 17th August 2020, a time when surely nobody would either recognise them and Marty would be able to get decent medical help. This time certainly didn't look like 2020, unless the apocalypse was right around the corner.

The buildings were destroyed, looking as though they hadn't been inhabited in many years. Plants had taken over every available space and torn remains of posters and signs were scattered around. A group of birds flew overhead, their menacing calls adding to the moment. The once vibrant Hill Valley was falling apart at the seams.

The tree the DeLorean had crashed into was next to the old courthouse, which seemed to still be relatively stable. Doc frowned; this was _bad._ They were now stuck in a post-apocalyptic town with no supplies and Marty was still seriously hurt. As if to reinforce this, Marty yelped in pain as he tried to get out the car, his left hand still clamped firmly onto his side. Doc looked at him, concerned.

Now what?


	4. Tempers fraying

**A/N: Woop! I'm on a roll with getting this published! I don't think I've ever written anything as efficiently as this before.**

...

Marty was lying down on the floor of the courthouse lobby, his body warmer acting as a pillow for him. He was asleep. Underneath his shirt was some bandaging wrapped around his sides and his right arm was back in the cast.

Doc had managed to find some old first-aid kits in the chemist in the town square, along with some sedatives and painkillers in sealed bottles. Running a couple of chemical tests on them, he discovered that they were dangerous for human use, so he'd had to help Marty without the use of painkillers, which hadn't been fun for either man.

While he certainly wasn't a biologist, Doc had a reasonable understanding of how to mend a wound and had been able to help Marty. Boiling the equipment in hot water had killed off any bacteria, then he'd placed the various tools inside a sterile glove to leave it to cool. He'd removed the bullet and sutured the wound. During the whole time Marty was fully conscious and could feel everything - he'd been given none of the dangerous sedatives - and it wasn't a fun experience.

Now the teenager was resting. Doc noticed he looked pale - blood loss, of course - but he was glad Marty would be okay. The scientist looked around the courthouse; it was a whole lot different to how he remembered it when he worked here as a teenager. He cringed a little remembering the amount of work his father had made him do here. Working until ten - ten! - on weekends. It's a miracle he ever got any sleep.

He was glad to have finally been able to give it up; law just wasn't his subject of choice. Of course his father had been furious when he'd found out about the man's plans, but he hadn't cared. Not in the slightest. He'd got his degree and had been able to do what he'd always wanted to do - science. It wasn't the life his father had planned for him, but it was the life he wanted.

Doc headed outside to the DeLorean. He'd pushed it away from the tree out into the middle of the street. He began looking over the smashed front end. Yep, it was pretty damaged alright. The headlights were broken and the tyres were bent out at odd angles. The windshield had miraculously managed to stay whole, only having a small chip in the corner.

Looking around, Doc came across the old Auto Repair shop. He decided that the residents didn't have much need for the equipment in there, so he walked in. The building was covered in dust and grime. A smell of something the scientist couldn't quite note was present, lingering in the air like fog. He headed to the back of the shop - presumably the store room. He found some old tools, ones that would be sufficient enough to fix the broken time machine, along with some fuel. He grabbed the equipment and brought it back over to the DeLorean. Rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, he set about repairing the car.

The sun had almost set over this post-apocalyptic Hill Valley by the time he'd finished, and closing the front trunk he headed back into the courthouse, wiping the oil off his hands with his jacket. Marty was still asleep, snoring quietly on the floor, so he left the teen alone. He sat on the floor, lying against the wall and sighing. This was a catastrophe. The time circuits would also need repairing, but he was too tired to do it now. It was also dark, which didn't help the situation in the slightest.

Doc closed his eyes and attempted to get some sleep. Due to his exhaustion, it didn't take long for him to pass out.

…..

A crow squawked overhead as the sun rose the next morning. A few smaller birds chirped, going about their daily business, completely oblivious to the fact a DeLorean converted into a time machine. The sun glinted off the metal, making the vehicle seem more mystical than usual. Nearby, a fox ran across the centre of town, a dead rat held in its mouth. It disappeared underneath the foundations of the comic book store, kicking up some dirt behind it.

Marty yawned as he began to stir. His side still hurt, but not as much as it had the other day… years ago… _whenever_ it had been when he was shot. His eyes felt as though they were glued shut and he struggled to pull them open. When he did, he flinched slightly as the bright sun glared in through the broken windows.

He coughed a bit and pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing. He noticed that his shirt was unbuttoned and around his sides were some bandages. He frowned a bit, but then shrugged. _Oh yeah, Doc helped me yesterday._

 _Wait a minute, where_ is _Doc?_

He looked around and, not seeing the scientist anywhere, struggled to his feet. He headed towards the door and noticed Doc was inside the DeLorean, probably fixing the time circuits. "Doc?"

Doc looked across to him and grinned. "Glad to see you're okay, and I've got some good news too. The time circuits are fixed."

"Already?" Marty asked incredulously, walking over to the car, wincing slightly. "That was quick!"

"When I woke up there was enough light to see so I just got to work," Doc explained, but looked at Marty frowning. "You shouldn't really be walking in your condition,"

The teenager rolled his eyes and plonked himself down on the floor. "Better?"

Doc chuckled. "I suppose so, how do you feel?"

"A hell of a lot better than I did yesterday," Marty replied. "Thanks,"

"Well I couldn't just leave you, could I?" Doc pointed out, to which Marty shrugged. "Anyway, the time circuits are fixed and apparently our current time is June 9th, 3885,"

Marty blinked in surprise for two reasons: one, the year. They'd jumped over two thousand years into the future from where they were before! The second reason was the date: June 9th, Marty's birthday.

"June 9th, huh?" Doc smirked. "Happy birthday, Marty,"

Marty snorted with laughter. "My birthday hardly matters any more considering I could visit it at any time I like,"

"Good point," the scientist chuckled. "C'mon," he tossed Marty his 1985 clothes. Doc had already changed, leaving his 1870 clothes by the courthouse. "You'd better get changed, there's still blood on your shirt,"

Marty cringed, looking down at his shirt. Sure enough, the evidence from his wound was still clearly evident on his clothes. "Right," He headed back into the courthouse to change. He emerged a few minutes later, wearing his T-shirt, shirt and body warmer. He left the other clothes inside the courthouse and walked back over to the time machine.

Doc climbed into the car, gesturing for Marty to join him. He set the destination time on the dashboard for November 9th 1985 at 9:30am. Once both of them were buckled up and the doors were shut, the scientist put his foot on the accelerator and headed off. The streets were bumpy and rubble made the surfaces a lot more uneven than they were in 1985. The car was going at 60mph when Marty suddenly started coughing hard and gagging.

" _STOP THE CAR!"_ He yelled, a hand clamped over his mouth. Doc immediately slammed his foot on the breaks and the car ground to a halt. Marty flung the door open, yanked his seatbelt off and ran out. He put his hands on the wall of an alleyway as he vomited. The acidic contents of his stomach burned his throat and made his eyes water.

Doc frowned and gave him a moment, bringing the car over to him and parking it at the side of the road. "Marty…?"

The teenager was coughing violently, spluttering and panting. His right arm was wrapped around his waist and he winced. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and turned back to the car. He was pale and Doc could have sworn almost _green._ His eyes were watering and his legs were shaking. "I… I'm alright…" he murmured.

Doc got out the car. "That's it, we're staying here until you're better," he said, giving the teenager an unimpressed look and crossing his arms. "I am not risking taking you home like this,"

"Doc I'm fine! I just probably got a little car sick, seriously I'm okay," Marty crossed his arms back. "Let's just get the hell out of here,"

"I'm not going anywhere, and neither are _you_ ," Doc gave him a look. "You're clearly not well,"

"And? It would be better going back to 1985 than hanging around here!" Marty protested. "Or is it that you just don't want me getting puke inside your precious precious time machine?"

Doc's expression faltered ever so slightly and Marty noticed it. "That's it, isn't it?" He narrowed his eyes. "You care more about some dumb car than your best friend,"

"Marty you're unwell, and travelling through time will only make your condition worse," Doc explained. Although if he was honest, the idea of the teenager throwing up inside his car wasn't a particularly pleasant one and he would like to avoid it at all costs.

"So it's my fault?!" Marty snapped, his temper rising. He wouldn't normally have acted in this way, but he was genuinely ill, which was causing his train of thought to be thrown off track. "Oh that's right, just blame everything on me,"

"I never said it was your fault!" Doc replied. "Stop acting so selfish,"

"Oh _**I**_ ' _ **m**_ the selfish one, am I?!" Marty yelled. " _You're_ the one who dragged me out here, _you're_ the one who ended up getting me shot and _you're_ the reason we're stuck here!"

"Hey, I never planned for _any of this_ to happen," Doc growled. "Granted I should have thought more carefully about the consequences but-"

"AHA!" Marty yelled in triumph. "You admitted it! Go on! SAY IT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"Marty," Doc growled again, stepping towards the teenager. "This whole thing was an accident. I never meant for it to happen,"

"So you _accidentally_ decided to invent a time machine, _accidentally_ phoned me up at eight in the morning to _accidently_ test out the DeLorean, and you just so happened to _accidentally_ land in the Old West?!" Marty snapped. "That's complete and utter bullshit! You just can't accept the fact that none of your inventions have _ever_ _ **worked right!"**_

 _ **WHACK!**_

Marty stepped back, his mouth agape in shock. One hand was pressed over his eye, which was slowly forming a bruise. He was dead silent. Not once in the however-many-years he'd known him had Doc ever punched him. Not once. Not even when Marty accidentally knocked over a smaller project, causing it to fall apart and have to be rebuilt entirely from scratch. Doc had never hurt him.

Until now.

Doc was panting, a look of anger still on his face. One arm - his right - was still clenched in a fist, held out from his body slightly. His teeth were gritted firmly, and his eyes seemed to show fire. "You're a selfish little brat," he muttered, not taking his eyes off Marty. "You know that? It's all about "me me me" with you, isn't it? You never seem to care about anyone but yourself,"

"If that was true, I would have left you to die after the Libyans shot you," Marty growled. Turning on his heel, he stormed off. He didn't care where he was going, he just walked away fast. His walk soon turned to a jog, then a run, then a full on sprint, pumping his legs hard to get him further away from the scientist. Tears were forming in his eyes, but he blinked them away. He turned left, right, left again and kept running through the broken down streets of what was once Hill Valley. He didn't once look back, focusing on where he was going.

At some point, it had begun to rain. Heavy, torrential rain that created rivers in the streets and soaked the teenager to his skin. His running slowed down to a walk as he came across his old street. There were hardly any cars around, and the ones that were left had long since rusted away to nothing. Trash covered the road and the plants had overtaken the majority of the houses there.

Including the McFlys'.

Marty stopped outside his old house. Seeing the family home in such ruin was upsetting. He'd lived here his whole life and to see it like this was just… wrong. He couldn't help but imagine his parents inside, and his brother and sister. It felt like an eternity since he'd seen them, and in a way, it was. It had been nearly two thousand years since he'd last set foot in the home. Walking up to the porch, he pushed the door open. This wasn't difficult; the lock on the door had rusted away with age. The furniture inside was rotting and covered in centuries of dust.

Marty closed the door behind him, walking around and taking the scene in. The fresh air from outside breezed in through holes in the ceiling, bringing with it drops of rain. The rain cut holes in the dust on the floor, showing the carpet beneath. A long rope of ivy crawled in from where the old TV used to sit, reminding the dead house that life still went on outside.

Clearly this house had been home to many other families after the McFlys, as different family photos to that of Marty's family were present on the shelves. Small china ornaments of cats, dogs, horses and other animals were dotted around and a set of Christmas fairy lights hung from the beams on the ceiling. Standing in one corner was the rotten remains of a Christmas tree, the decorations having fallen to the floor ever since the tree died years ago.

 _This must have been depressing,_ Marty thought, _to have the world end at Christmas time._

He headed past the kitchen towards where his bedroom was, pushing the door open and going inside. That didn't seem to have changed - the posters Marty had had on his walls were still there (albeit they were faded and nearly unrecognisable, but there nonetheless). His guitar still lay in the corner next to his school books. His bed was neatly made with the exact same covers it had had when he left. The teenager sat down on the bed and picked up a photo from his bedside table. Blowing the dust off it, he recognised it as the photo of him, Dave and Linda standing by a well. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of his family. What had happened here? Where was everyone?

Marty noticed a letter sitting on the table. Picking it up, he noticed the word " _Marty"_ written upon the envelope. He frowned - that was peculiar. Why would a family of the future have written a letter for him. And why was all his stuff still here, exactly how he'd left it? What was going on? Curious to find out, Marty carefully opened the envelope and pulled the aged letter out. Compared to the posters on his walls, the furniture and generally everything else in the small house, the letter was very well preserved. Unfolding the piece of paper inside, he began to read.

 _Dear Marty,_

 _We miss you. All of us. We don't know where you've gone or why you haven't come home until now, but if you're reading this, you're home and you're safe._

 _We haven't heard from either you or Emmett Brown since you left that morning, and the police found Doc's abandoned van by the old air force base. What happened? Where did you go?_

 _We've kept your room the same, so that you'll recognise it when you come home. Hopefully any other families after us who live here will do the same. We want you to come back sweetheart, we miss you. We've even kept your guitar nice and safe for you over the years, in the hope that you'll come back._

 _We miss you Marty. Come back._

 _Love,_

 _Mom, Dad, Dave and Linda._

"Oh my God…." Marty murmured. He held the letter in his shaking hands, feeling his throat tighten up. He put the letter on his bedside table and laid on his bed, facing the wall. He'd ditched his family, just for one of Doc's stupid projects. This just made him even more mad at the scientist. Not only had he affected Marty, he'd affected Marty's whole family, and no doubt his girlfriend and school friends.

 _I wish I'd never met Doc in the first place. He just brings everyone he meets trouble._

Marty curled up on his bed, ignoring the sounds of a storm approaching. The wind howled outside, rattling the glass in the window frame. The wooden frame had rotted with age, and the wind caused the glass to fall out and smash on the floor. The teenager didn't care. He barely flinched as rain blew in from the now wide-open window and hit his arms and face. He didn't react when the tree next to his room began to get shaken free from its position in the ground, gradually leaning towards the house.

… _._

 _Stupid kid, he's being so damn selfish._ Doc grumbled to himself as he sat in the DeLorean to keep out the rain. He watched as the rain hit the windshield and ran down, forming small streams across the glass. The daylight glowed within the rain, the water refracting the light beams and causing a small rainbow to form across the car's dashboard.

The scientist sighed. Marty was tired, sick and hurt and he knew that he didn't mean what he'd said. Doc didn't either. He hadn't meant to punch the teen, he'd just been so _angry,_ and he'd lashed out, and now Marty was gone. Probably off moping somewhere.

But Marty's last sentence to him echoed in his mind and refused to be ignored. " _If that was true, I would have left you to die after the Libyans shot you,"_ Marty was right. He _had_ gotten help, when he could have just left Doc to die.

 _But he was hurt too,_ a small voice said in Doc's mind. _He needed to save his own skin too._

Doc sighed and laid back in the chair. This was a complete catastrophe. He had initially intended to just have a quick look around the Old West. But _no,_ he had to go and walk around. He _had_ to drag Marty along with him -

 _He wanted to come._

-and the teen had ended up being shot as a result. Then he'd dragged them into this dystopian nightmare, and _worse,_ Marty got sick. Then he'd just had to call Marty selfish, as the icing on the cake.

 _He called you a failure. He said none of your inventions ever worked right._

Now Marty had run off and who was to blame? Doc. Doc had caused Marty to get upset and worse, he'd outright _punched the teenager._ He was a jerk, a real idiot.

"As soon as we get home," Doc muttered to himself. "I'm dismantling this damn car and burning the pieces,"

 _Why? Why should you listen to what_ _ **Marty**_ _says? You're the one with a degree in applied Physics for God's sake. What's he got? A guitar and a skateboard and a handful of detentions._

"Marty's my friend," Doc muttered, as if talking with the voice in his head. "And I hurt him,"

 _He deserves to be hurt._

"No he doesn't,"

 _ **He hurt you**_

"SHUT UP!" Doc yelled. Had there been other people in the town, they would have given him some very strange looks, but he was alone. There was no-one here to judge him, no-one to tell him off for parking in a no-park zone; there was no-one else in Hill Valley except…

Marty.

Marty was still here. Marty was the only other person in Hill Valley. Marty was the only one who was able to help Doc at all.

And he'd punched him. He'd accused the teen of being selfish, when in reality, it was Doc who was selfish. He'd demanded that the teen turn up at Twin Pines mall at one in the morning. He'd demanded that Marty stand right in the path of the DeLorean, knowing full well that if his calculations were incorrect, they would both be killed instantly. He'd even dragged Marty into this nightmarish future.

It was his fault. He did this. This could have all been prevented if it weren't for him.

Doc looked up at the storm clouds beginning to form, and felt the car sway slightly as strong wind blew through the town. Trees were shaking violently as they were pulled, turned, twisted and dragged around with the gale. This wasn't the first time California had had a storm like this - being situated on the coast meant that these events were all too common. The scientist just prayed no trees would fall down on top of the car.

Small rocks began to get carried around with the wind and the rain got stronger, bombarding the car and causing the stainless steel roof to make a horrific noise. It sounded a lot worse than it was, but that didn't make Doc's worries go away completely. Several cracks began to appear in the windshield of the vehicle as pebbles and sticks hit it. Doc was incredibly glad he was inside the car; those rocks looked like they'd be painful if he got hit.

He slumped down in the seat, prepared to wait the storm out. After all, he wasn't going outside when there was the likelihood of a stray tree branch striking him. Eventually the sounds of the storm began to fade out as the clouds moved on, the rain gradually slowing down until it had almost stopped. Soon only a faint drizzle fell from the sky, then the sun cut through the clouds at last and the light sparkled off the water.

Doc pushed the door open and stood up outside. The town looked a whole lot cleaner than it had before the storm struck. Most of the litter had been swept away with the rain and the wind, and the grime on some of the shop windows was gone. The sunlight continued to beam down from the west - indicating that it was nearing the evening - and caused the town to light up, as if the rain droplets were acting as little lights themselves. The intense California heat had also lessened, the rain having made it much cooler than it had been before.

Turning around, Doc inspected the damage on the DeLorean. Quite frankly, it was a lot less than he had expected. A few minor dents and cracks were all that were visible, along with the odd twig here and there strewn across the top of the car. The car had held together well. Doc was also glad to see that the mechanics at the back of the DeLorean, above the engine, were fine. They didn't seem damaged at all.

Sighing, Doc sat back inside the DeLorean again, this time leaving the door open to let the cool air flow in. This storm served as a reminder why exactly mother nature was not a forced to be messed with. The ivy growing over practically every building in town showed that no matter what happened to humankind, nature still came out on top. A couple of trees had fallen over, smashing through the roofs of buildings as if they were made of papier mache.

"Jesus, I hope none of that happened wherever Marty is," Doc muttered. His eyes widened in sudden realisation.

"Great Scott! _Marty!"_


	5. Tremors

_Damn it! Where is that kid?!_

Doc passed the same street of houses for the third time as he drove around in the DeLorean, looking for Marty. He must have been driving in circles for hours, due to the fact that now, when he looked down at the car's dashboard, the fuel display was showing that the tank was nearly empty. Damn it, he'd have to find Marty soon or resort to walking. It also didn't help that some of the roads were blocked by rubble and fallen trees.

This was getting worrying. Marty was nowhere to be seen and now that the storm had passed, the damage it has caused was fully realised. It had destroyed so many buildings, bringing them to the ground like a house of cards. Family homes had been completely wrecked beyond any hope of repair. Doc just hoped that Marty was somewhere safe. Maybe he went back to -

The scientist clicked his fingers. "Of course! Why didn't I think of that before?!" He exclaimed, scolding himself for his stupidity. Turning the car around, he began driving towards the McFly's' house. It took him a little while to get there due to blocked roads, but soon he pulled up outside the family home where he'd often dropped the teenager off after helping him out with an invention.

He got out the car and ran up to the front porch. He noticed with horror that the tree that had once stood next to Marty's bedroom had collapsed, crushing half of the house and making it difficult to get into the door. The door was hanging off the frame. Doc had to duck and squeeze through the gap in order to get into the house.

"Marty? Marty can you hear me?!" Doc called, stepping over rubble and broken twigs and glass as he made his way through the house.

Marty looked up from where he was sitting. He was curled up in the corner of his room. He'd barely managed to get out the way before the tree fell down, blocking his exit to the room. He had a scrape on his cheek from where a branch had struck him, but was otherwise unhurt from the fallen tree. He didn't think Doc would actually come looking for him after what he said, after he'd _punched him._ "D-Doc?"

"Marty!" Doc ran over to the room. He couldn't get in - the branched of the tree were blocking any way into the bedroom. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," Marty's voice sounded… broken. He sounded upset. Not angry, but upset. Doc frowned. The kid's emotions could wait until he was out of there.

"Can you get out?"

Marty couldn't so much as stand up. The branches of the tree were trapping him in the corner. "No, I'm stuck. This fucking tree is in the way!"

"Right, hang on a moment," Doc called as he headed towards the back door. He had to kick it down, but soon enough the door fell to the ground with a thunk. He walked around the house until he was outside Marty's bedroom window, right where the fallen tree was. "Marty? You there?"

Marty knocked on the wall behind him to indicate where he was. "Right here Doc,"

"Alright, I think I can get you out of there, but I'll have to break down part of the wall. You might wanna move away from the tree," Doc called.

Marty shuffled towards the other wall, further into the corner of the room. "Right, Doc what are you gonna-"

 _ **THUD THUD THUD**_

Doc swung the hammer he'd found into the wall by the tree, breaking apart the plaster and bricks and making a larger gap in the wall. He pulled some of the branches away, making a gap large enough for someone to crawl through. "Can you get out now?"

Marty looked at the hole in the wall and got on his hands and knees, crawling towards it. "Y-yeah,"

Once in view, Doc grabbed Marty's left arm and pulled him out and to his feet. He looked the teenager over. Marty's hair was messed up, a few small twigs caught in it. He had a scrape running across one cheek and his left eye was bruised from the punch. Doc cringed at that. The sleeve of Marty's shirt was torn but what the scientist noticed most was his facial expression.

"I'm sorry," both men said in synchronisation with each other. Doc and Marty both blinked in surprise and looked at each other. Doc put his hand on Marty's shoulder, looking into the teen's eyes. He pulled him into a hug. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess,"

Marty returned the hug, "I'm sorry I shouted at you,"

"I'm sorry I punched you. That was completely out of order,"

"I'm sorry about what I said,"

Doc squeezed the teen. "It's alright. We were both acting rashly,"

Marty nodded, stepping back. "Let's go home,"

Doc nodded, grinning. "Yeah, let's get the hell out of here,"

Marty smirked and headed to the DeLorean. Doc walked beside him, keeping a hand on his shoulder. He led the teen back to the car and, getting in, set the destination time for 9th November 1985 at 9:30am. Doc drove the car down the road to get it up to eighty-eight, and once that number hit-

Nothing happened.

No blue flash, no fire.

Nothing.

All that happened was that the speedometer moved up past 90mph. They were going fast enough, the time circuits were on, the flux capacitor was doing its thing. But the car and its two occupants remained in the current year. Cursing, Doc brought the car to a stop again.

"Uh… hey Doc? What went wrong?"

"I don't know," The scientist ran a hand through his hair, looking at the time circuits in worry. "It should have worked!"

"Does that mean we're stuck here?!" Marty exclaimed. "Now what are we supposed to do!?"

"The only thing we can do," Doc replied. "We head back to my garage and see if the blueprints for the DeLorean are still there. If they aren't… then I don't know what to do,"

Marty frowned. Hearing that Doc didn't entirely know what to do was concerning. The scientist was his only hope of making it home safely. "Right…"

Doc drove the car towards his garage, praying that it was still there. As he rounded the corner, something was definitely there. The Burger King was there, and next to it, where Doc's place should have been… was a huge parking lot. It was overgrown with plants and foliage. Clearly the garage was no longer there.

"Oh shit…" Marty murmured. Once the car came to a halt, he pushed the gullwing door open and jumped out. He looked at the parking lot as if it was a haunted mansion.

Doc was pale. His life's work, all his blueprints, his experiments, his discoveries, bulldozed down and in its place, a fucking _parking lot of all things._ His hands were shaking slightly. It was likely that his possessions had been destroyed or sold to other people, possibly in a yard sale. They now had nothing. No means of repairing the time circuits or even figuring out what was wrong with them in the first place. They were stranded.

Marty looked over at the scientist, standing next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Doc… I'm… I'm sorry,"

"Don't be," Doc shook his head and forced a smile onto his face. "It wasn't your fault. It's just a load of old man's pieces of junk. I'd be surprised if it was still there,"

"Still, they had no right in doing that," Marty glared at the parking lot. "You spent years on all your work and they just destroyed it like it was nothing!"

"What's done is done, but as soon as we get back home none of this will have ever happened," Doc said.

"Right… _if_ we ever get home," Marty muttered.

"Marty how long have you known me?"

"Seven and a half years, why?"

"Have I ever given up on something when there was still hope of success?"

"No but-"

"And I don't plan on giving up now," Doc said. "Now let's get back to the courthouse so we can have a proper look at the time circuits and figure out what went wrong,"

With that, he pulled the door of the car open and hopped in, gesturing for Marty to join him as he started the car once more. Marty climbed in and the car sped off down the road.

….

Once back at the courthouse, Doc took the tools he'd found and began dismantling the time circuits on the dashboard. Marty was a little unsure of what to do, so he sat on the courthouse steps and waited. He hoped that whatever was wrong with the DeLorean could be fixed, otherwise they'd be stranded in this post-apocalyptic nightmare until they died. Was humanity even around anymore? Where had everyone gone? What had happened to the once bright and lively town of Hill Valley?

The teenager took time to look around the town. The storm had damaged a large number of buildings, smashing windows and tearing walls apart. Several trees had collapsed onto the roofs (not unlike at Marty's house) and caused gaping holes in the ceiling to allow water to flow in. It was hard to imagine anyone living here anymore, what with the town in such a state. Water was still collected in large puddles on the streets and the gutters still dripped. A few stray leaves floated around in the breeze.

One thing that hadn't changed was the heat. The storm had caused this particular area of California to become much more humid, as a result causing its two sole occupants to sweat. Marty pulled his clothes off until he was wearing just jeans, a t-shirt and his shoes. Even then he was still warm, and he wiped a hand across his forehead before moving to sit underneath the roof of the courthouse in the shade. He wished he had some water with him; his throat was dry and the heat was making it practically unbearable.

Doc too was pretty thirsty. He didn't expect their trip to take this long and had subsequently left basic supplies like food and water at home. He wasn't prepared to drink from puddles - who knew what sorts of bacteria and filth was in that - but he knew of a stream a few miles from their current position. "Marty?"

"Yeah?" Marty looked over to him, his face red from heat and a developing sunburn.

"Would I be right in assuming that by now, you're rather thirsty?"

"Yeah, it feels like an eternity since I last had something to drink," the teenager sighed, licking the inside of his mouth in an attempt to keep it from going dry.

"There's a freshwater stream not far from here," Doc looked at the broken mess of parts on the floor before up at the teenager. "I suggest we find some containers and go up there to fill them up,"

"Sounds like a good idea," Marty got up. He was beginning to get a headache from dehydration and he swayed a little on his feet. "Let's go,"

Doc nodded and got up, beginning to walk around the few shops, searching for some suitable containers for water. Marty did the same, walking around the town square in the opposite direction. Checking each shop, the two men soon found some large containers that they'd be able to hold water in. He headed back to the car, carrying the containers in his arms. Marty returned a couple of minutes later. Due to the fact his arm was broken and still very painful, he wasn't able to carry as many containers as Doc, but he still had a few.

They placed the containers in the trunk of the DeLorean and started it up, Doc driving it towards the location of the stream. It didn't take long for them to reach it. The water flowed over the rocks in a thin trickle, causing the sunlight to glint off the pebbles under the surface. Small river weeds were being pulled in the direction of the current towards a freshwater pool at one end. Marty wasted no time in jumping straight into the pool, causing small waves of water to drift around the edges and soaking Doc's feet.

Doc knelt down and began filling up one of the containers, taking a drink from the water. While it wasn't perfectly clean, it was still a damn lot better than the water from the 1800s. The rocks had done a good job of removing larger pieces of sediment and dirt from the stream. He looked over to Marty, who was sitting in the water, completely soaked. He raised an eyebrow.

"Your side will get infected if you keep swimming around like that,"

Marty responded by ducking under the water for a moment and popping up by Doc's side, using his good arm to splash him. "It's cold,"

"And full of bacteria," Doc rolled his eyes, continuing to fill up the containers. He smirked before tossing an empty plastic bottle at Marty. The bottle hit the teenager's head while his back was turned.

"Hey!"

Doc acted as though nothing had happened as he finished filling the bottles up, screwing the lids back on and putting them in the car. "Come on, stop fooling around,"

"But it's nice and cool in the water!" The teen protested, treading water. He dunked his head under water for a moment before surfacing, flicking his hair out his face by tossing his head. The cold pool made a lovely change to the hot, humid town square where he'd spent the last few hours watching Doc repair the DeLorean.

"Come on, out." Doc gave him a look. He was beginning to sound like a father telling his son that it was time to get out the pool, having to deal with a kid who loved swimming and refused to budge. "I'll drive back to the town without you and you'll be made to walk back,"

Marty rolled his eyes and waded out. Water dripped from his soaking clothes and he suddenly regretted his decision to jump in, as now his shoes were full of water and they were uncomfortable to walk in. His right hand was also aching and the bandages around his stomach were drenched.

Doc got into the car again and gave Marty a look. "It's your own fault,"

Marty shrugged. "At least I'm not hot anymore," he commented dryly.

The scientist sighed as he started the car again and drove back to the courthouse where the two men had made their temporary camp. It was the most suitable building in Hill Valley due to its structure; it had been strong and well-built and had withstood many storms, making it a suitable place to stay. Now it was slightly more worn-down and unstable than it had been in 1985, due to a lack of repair work over the centuries. One of the few problems were that at night, cold wind drifted in through gaps in the walls and floorboards. During this summer period, that wasn't so bad. Marty was just glad that they hadn't landed in winter, where that cold breeze would have been less welcome.

After parking the DeLorean and having another drink, Marty sat back on the courthouse steps as Doc continued working on the time circuits. He'd found the problem - one of the circuit boards inside had been knocked out of place, but it was proving to be rather difficult to fix. There were too many other wires in the way and he needed to hold the board in place while he fixed it. "Marty? Could you hold this circuit board like this please?"

"Sure," Marty got up and walked over. Doc instructed him on how to hold it, and began soldering the wires back in place while the teenager held the board. It took a few minutes, but soon enough it was complete.

"There, that should do it, now as long as the flux capacitor is working and the recalibration units don't malfunction, we should be good to go," the scientist nodded in approval as he replaced the board to its correct position. He put the time circuits back in their proper place on the dashboard and replaced the screws. "Right, that should be in full working order,"

"So we can finally go home," Marty sighed in relief. "Good, cause I'm starving." All he'd had to eat when he got up was one slice of toast and that was beginning to show. His stomach felt as though it was beginning to digest itself and the water only brought temporary relief to the ache. He thought that he could devour a whole cow if he was given the chance.

Doc chuckled. "Well it's a good thing I live near a restaurant." He too was hungry, after all, he hadn't eaten in a while either. The scientist had a habit of snacking rather than eating full meals, as he often found he had little time to cook. He wouldn't admit it, but he was hopeless when it came to cooking. He always ended up setting something on fire, or burning it, or trying to think of a highly scientific, over-complicated way of cooking which usually ended in disaster.

Marty laughed. "And it's a good thing I have my wallet with me in the bag," he pointed to his rucksack which still lay on the seat of the car.

"Well the car's got plenty of fuel, so let's get our things from the courthouse and we can be on our way," the scientist and the teenager walked back into the courthouse lobby to grab their stuff. Various clothes and tools they'd left inside.

"Just leave the 1870 clothes there Marty, we won't need them back in-" Doc stopped mid-sentence as strong tremors suddenly shook through the ground beneath his feet.

California was situated right on the border of two tectonic plates (the Pacific plate and the North American plate) and was therefore accustomed to earthquakes every so often. Some were barely noticeable by humans, others caused extreme chaos.

This was one of the extreme ones.

Huge rafters on the ceiling began to fall as the foundations of the entire town shook. Rubble began to fall around the town square from the buildings. Several bricks fell around the doorway, blocking the exit.

Marty's pulse increased rapidly as his heart pounded in his chest. He was panicking. He absolutely hated the feeling of earthquakes - they made him nauseous - but this was just plain terrifying. Smaller pieces of rock struck him on their way to the ground, leaving scrapes on his cheeks and arms.

"Marty! The whole building's coming down!" Doc yelled over the tremendous noise being caused.

The teenager would have replied with a sarcastic comment if it weren't for the fact he was (metaphorically) scared to death. He ran over to the scientist, hoping to find a way out from there. It didn't seem like it - the rubble had blocked the main way in and out of the courthouse. The rubble continued to fall, making the gap where Doc and Marty stood decrease in size until their backs were pressed together.

Another beam fell from the ceiling, smashing a window and breaking part of the wall down. A cloud of dust exploded around them, making them cough. Marty's eyes began to water as the small foreign particles got lodges in them. The tremors shook again, causing part of the wall to fall down. There was now a roughly metre-square gap through which the two men could escape.

The two men began pulling rubble away, climbing over smashed bricks to get to the gap. A beam fell, making a nasty scratch on Doc's arm and tearing through his shirt. There was little time left. Marty let out a cry as some bricks hit his right hand as they fell and immediately pulled his arm closer to his body, trying to shield it from the falling debris.

Outside, the DeLorean had rolled away from the courthouse due to the tremors and was sitting on the grass verge by the town square. It had been hit by some rubble too, but nothing serious. It had some dents in the roof and the exhausts on the back looked a little worse-for-wear, but it was still fully functional. Doc breathed a sigh of relief as he caught a glimpse of it. It was at least somewhat reassuring to see that they had a way home.

Suddenly, a huge beam fell across the gap, blocking the way out for the two trapped men. It was large and thick and heavy and even with their combined efforts the duo were struggling to lift it out the way. It seemed as though they were trapped in there. The weight of it mean that both of them had to be lifting it to keep it out the way of the gap.

Realisation dawned on Doc's face. Only one of them could make it out, and since Marty wasn't strong enough to lift the beam with one arm, he would have to be the one to hold it. Shifting so that the beam was over his back and he was lifting with his knees, he looked Marty in the eyes.

"I can't hold this for very long, and the whole building will collapse in about thirty seconds, so you'll have to be quick,"

Marty's eyes widened in horror as he realised what Doc was doing. "Doc no, I'm not gonna let you do that,"

"Marty you have no choice. If you don't get out in the next twenty-four seconds we'll both die!" Doc snapped. "I know I said that you were selfish and you only think about yourself, but that's not true. You are honestly the kindest person I've ever met. Now for once you need to think of yourself and get out of here!"

Marty bit his lip and shook his head, crouching underneath the beam. "Doc seriously I won't leave you here!"

"MARTY MCFLY YOU HAVE SIX SECONDS TO GET OUT BEFORE IT KILLS BOTH OF US!"

"NO! I'M NOT LEAVING YOU IN HERE!"

Doc swallowed hard. "I'm sorry,"

"Doc no what are you-"

Doc put his foot on Marty's backside and pushed him hard. The teenager fell through the gap and onto the courthouse steps outside. He let out a small yelp as he hit the ground roughly, but that was soon replaced with sheer terror as the entire courthouse collapsed. Dust billowed out in a great wave, pushing his hair back and blowing leaves away. The famous Hill Valley courthouse now stood as a huge pile of ruins, but Marty didn't care about that.

Doc had been inside when the building collapsed. That whole several-storey courthouse had come down on top of him, and Doc had kicked Marty out the way. Doc had sacrificed his own skin in favour of saving the teenager. Several rocks tumbled down the pile and onto the street, rolling a little before coming to a stop. Marty paid them no attention: he could only focus on the several tonnes of debris now crushing his best friend.

As if sensing what had happened, the tremors abruptly stopped, leaving the whole town eerily still. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound, nothing seemed to so much as _breathe_ as the teenager sat on the steps, his terrified eyes fixated on the pile of rubble in front of him. A light drizzle of rain started to fall, dampening the wreckage and causing mud to form on the streets. Pathetic fallacy, almost.

"Doc...Doc! DOC! _DOC! DOC PLEASE!"_ Marty's voice cut through the silence as he began frantically pulling rubble away, trying to uncover his buried friend. He knew Doc would be hurt bad after that, he just hoped that it was nothing fatal. Large, fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he continued his efforts, oblivious as the rain gradually got heavier. Sobs escaped him and he was shaking as he kept digging through the debris to find Doc.

 **...**

 **A/N: For those of you who may not know, pathetic fallacy is when the weather reflects the emotion of the characters. For instance, if they're happy, the sun is shining and it's a nice warm day. In a tragic event like this, it's raining.**

 **To the guest who reviewed chapter 4: Thank you so much :D That really means a lot.**


	6. Home, but not home

Marty's hands were bleeding by the time he finally unearthed the scientist and pulled him out from under the rubble. Doc's clothes were torn and one of his legs was clearly badly broken. He was covered in cuts and bruises. Marty put two fingers on Doc's neck to search for a pulse, relieved when he discovered he was still alive and breathing. He carefully dragged Doc into the street, laying him down on his back as he ran to get the few medical supplies they'd found.

Using some of the water to dampen a cloth, Marty first began to clear Doc's leg. Some small pieces of debris had been caught in the wound and he needed to clean it out. He washed the blood away before looking at Doc's knee. It was twisted in a way legs shouldn't be twisted, and it looked really freaking painful. He looked around for something he could use as a splint. Grabbing two wooden planks, he tied them to the scientist's leg with bandaging to keep his leg straight. Marty then moved on to the cuts on Doc's face, taping bandaging to some of the worse ones and cleaning them. Considering what had happened, Doc was pretty lucky to be in the state he was in - Marty had expected him to be dead.

It was dark by the time Marty had seen to the scientist's more serious wounds and he was absolutely exhausted. He laid on his back and looked up at the stars. The glinting fireballs seemed to mock him; they were up there, doing as they pleased, and he was down here, fighting to get home. He was stranded, hurt, cold, hungry and upset. Doc was unconscious and Marty had no idea if he'd ever wake up. A couple of tears ran down the sides of his face.

"This is heavy…"

…

Marty must have drifted off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again the sun was up. Birds were chirping in the dawn light and it was beginning to get warmer. He sat up and looked across to Doc. The scientist didn't look as bad as he had done when he'd first been pulled from the rubble, but it wasn't perfect. There was no doubt about the fact that Doc would need hospital treatment as soon as they got home, which would no doubt lead to a lot more trouble, questions of all sorts.

The teenager sighed and got to his feet. Things were only going to get more complicated from here, weren't they, and what was worse was that they couldn't use the DeLorean to fix anything. Otherwise they would likely create a paradox of universe-destroying proportions. Besides, they had no control over earthquakes, storms or the weather in general.

Marty fidgeted slightly. The water he'd drunk yesterday had caught up to him, and he walked round the back of the courthouse for a moment to relieve himself. The fact that he'd had plenty to drink didn't disguise the fact that he was still hungry, and his stomach growling seemed to nail that fact home. He was starting to get dizzy from a lack of energy and just wondered how much longer it would be until he finally got something to eat.

Sitting down on the street outside the courthouse a couple of minutes later, Marty started rummaging around in his rucksack to see if he had anything to eat. His house key, wallet, walkman, gameboy and an empty chocolate bar wrapper were all that were in there. Nothing edible, by any means. He wasn't going to try anything from the shops nearby; anything there, canned or not, would have long since expired and would likely give him food poisoning, another thing to add to the list. Nope, he could forget that.

Marty looked across to Doc again. He was still unconscious, not surprising what had happened. No doubt Doc would have some broken ribs due to all that rubble. It didn't seem like he'd be waking up any time soon, so Marty would have to do something else until he did. The teenager couldn't help but think about what Doc had gone through in order to save Marty. He'd dragged his bleeding body onto a horse, then fixed the teenager himself with whatever supplies he had, smashed a building in order to drag him out and now he'd kicked him out of a collapsing building. It made Marty smile to think that Doc really cared about him enough to risk his life to save the teen's.

Marty had been so outright selfish. He'd shouted at him, accused him of being a failure, whined and complained. Thinking back on it now, the teenager cringed at how much of a brat he'd been over the past couple of days, blaming the scientist for something that definitely wasn't his fault and that he had no control over. Doc had only been trying to help, and he'd been so selfish and arrogant and just generally horrible.

Getting to his feet, Marty started walking around the town to clear his head. He was stressed out to say the least. When he met up with Doc at 9am that morning, he never expected any of this to happen. He figured he'd just test out the DeLorean, maybe visit a few points in time and be back home for lunch. He could have never predicted that they'd both be catapulted into this nightmare, being thrown around as if they were chew toys for some giant cosmic kitten or something. As he dwelt on it, Marty realised just how fragile humans were. Put them in an unfamiliar scenario and they'd lose their minds within hours. They'd panic, go rogue and cause havoc.

Not all of them were like that, though. Some were able to adapt and take control over the situation. They could go about their day as easily as if they were at home watching TV, or going shopping with friends. They kept a cool head when situations got unbearable and could even encourage others to do the same. That is exactly what Doc had done; he'd kept calm and carried on. He hadn't lost his cool and left Marty somewhere simply because he was annoying him. He'd helped the teenager out when he'd been hurt and hadn't flipped out when Marty had been selfish.

 _I'm such a jerk...I should have been the one to get crushed, not him. I don't deserve to have been saved._

Marty did another circuit of town before returning to the courthouse. He absentmindedly kicked a stone as he went, watching it bounce across the ground before kicking it again. Doc's life would have been so much easier if Marty wasn't in it. All the teen had done was cause trouble. He'd dragged Doc into this mess and now he felt like it was his responsibility to drag him out of it. The fact that the scientist had insisted on fixing the DeLorean and had made Marty rest just made the teen feel more guilty. If it hadn't been for him Doc wouldn't have been crushed and neither of them would be here.

Looking across the town square, the teenager noticed Doc was still out cold. That was worrying - it meant that Doc was seriously hurt. Marty had no idea how to fix a human being, sure he'd done what he could but that was mostly common sense based on his own previous injuries. If Doc had any internal bleeding, Marty was clueless as how to heal him. All the teenager could do was hope and pray that Doc would be fine and they could just go home. Somehow, though, Marty knew it wouldn't be that easy.

He sighed and sat down on the side of the road, putting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. What had either of them done to deserve this? Was fate really cruel enough to leave them two thousand years from home, stranded and hurt? It wasn't fair. Doc certainly didn't deserve to be stuck in this mess, he was kind, caring, intelligent and honestly like a second dad to Marty. All he'd done was try to see if one of his experiments worked, and it landed him here, seriously hurt with his only companion being a wayward teenager.

Marty figured that it was only fair for him to be stuck in this mess. He was a downright delinquent. He'd caused Doc's life to take this sharp turn into chaos, and now fate was giving him his reward. While Doc didn't deserve this, Marty felt as though he did. He was being taught a lesson about how his actions could have serious consequences. He was stuck in this mess for one reason: he was an idiot. His stupidity had made him fall over and be shot, his stupidity had meant he'd gotten upset and argued with Doc, leading to him being punched. His stupidity meant he'd run off and it was because of him that Doc was even here in the first place. Marty's stomach growled again and he sighed. How long would it be until he got home? It felt like it would be an eternity until he was back home in his bed again. Well technically, his bed was still here, it was just being crushed by a tree. His whole world had fallen apart, leaving behind this post-apocalyptic wasteland. Now he and Doc were stuck here.

The teenager stood up and walked back to where he'd left the scientist, sighing when he noticed he was still unconscious. Some of the cuts on his face had some dirt on them, so grabbing a cloth and some water Marty began to dab them clean again. The dried blood flaked away onto the cloth as Marty rubbed the cuts and bruises. The teenager then moved onto clearing Doc's arms again, before washing the cloth off and sitting down.

"This isn't fair…" Marty mumbled. "I should have been the one to get crushed, I got us stuck in this mess in the first place. This is all my fault,"

Doc shifted a little and coughed. Marty looked over to him, hope twinkling in his eyes. "Doc?"

The scientist coughed again and his eyes opened weakly. "Urgh, what happened?"

"Jesus Christ Doc!" Marty sighed in relief. "You scared me!"

Doc put his arms behind him to push himself up into a sitting position, wincing. Marty helped him sit up, kneeling next to him. "The whole freaking building fell on you,"

"Feels like it," Doc chuckled. He looked at his leg, then his arms and he felt the bandages on his face. He tried shifting his leg, but winced as pain shot through it.

"You had a lot of cuts," Marty frowned. "I patched them up as best I could but your leg's really broken,"

"Thank you," Doc put an arm round Marty's shoulders. The teenager hugged him, tears pricking his eyes.

"This is all my fault. If it weren't for me we wouldn't be stuck in this stupid mess,"

"Marty," Doc sighed, pulling the teen into a hug. "This wasn't your fault. It was an accident, please don't blame yourself for any of this,"

Marty swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Okay,"

Doc smiled and pulled back, sitting next to the teen. Marty leaned on his shoulder while Doc rubbed his arm. "We'll get out of this mess,"

"I hope so," Marty replied. "I can't wait to get home,"

"Same here," Doc chuckled. "Right now my bed has never seemed so inviting,"

Marty laughed. "I reckon we could go home now, if I drive."

"We should get out of here," Doc agreed.

Marty nodded and helped Doc up, letting the scientist lean on him as he led him over to the DeLorean. He pulled the passenger door open and helped Doc sit inside. The scientist eased himself into the seat, wincing slightly, and pulled the seatbelt on.

Marty climbed in the driver's side and started the engine. He turned the time circuits on and set the date for November 9th, 1985 at 9:45 am, approximately ten minutes after they left. That should give them plenty of time to avoid any possible time-continuum-destroying paradoxes. Putting his foot on the accelerator, he drove forward.

The teenager headed towards the old air force base, pointing the DeLorean in the same direction from which they had taken off, as to not crash into their past selves.

"Right, this should work," Doc said. "I fixed the time circuits so we should be good to go,"

Marty took a deep breath and nodded. The "should" in Doc's sentence made him worry a little, but at the moment he just wanted to get home. He pressed his foot down, gripping the steering wheel as the car shot forwards. He kept putting his foot forwards until the car hit eighty-eight miles an hour, at which point the familiar blue sparks appeared and the car vanished, flames bursting out from where the tyres had been.

…

The old aircraft hangars reappeared, along with the rest of Hill Valley. Marty pressed down on the brakes and turned the car back in the direction of Doc's van, which was thankfully there. Both men sighed in relief. The time circuits were fixed and they were back home as normal. Doc laid back in his chair and grinned at Marty, who grinned back.

"Well, we're back,"

Marty brought the car to a halt by the van and got out, walking round to Doc's side and helping the scientist out. He pulled his arm over his shoulders and helped him over to the truck. Pulling the door open, Doc sat inside and pressed the button that allowed the ramp at the back of the van to open. "Right, let's get the DeLorean out of here and back home,"

Marty nodded, and once he returned to the car, drove it up the ramp into the back of the van. He got out and hopped in the driver's side as the back of the van shut again. He started the van and drove back towards town. This was it, they were finally home. They could finally return to their normal lives. After, of course, they'd both been to the hospital. The teenager began driving in the direction of the hospital.

Once he'd pulled in, he helped Doc out the car and locked the van up. The pair struggled over to the hospital reception, but once inside, nurses rushed to help. Doc was taken into surgery and Marty was left in the waiting room by himself. He hoped Doc would be okay.

The teenager yawned, laying back in the chair. He was absolutely exhausted and it felt like he hadn't had a proper night's sleep in ages. Without meaning to, he drifted off in the chair, curling up and falling asleep.

….

"Sir? Sir wake up!"

Marty yawned and opened his eyes to see a nurse shaking him awake. "Huh?"

"Your friend's out of surgery,"

The teenager sat up, still yawning. "Right… where is he?"

"Room 7 on the second floor, ward B," the nurse said. She raised an eyebrow and left, muttering something under her breath.

Marty got up and stretched, beginning to head to the room. He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he headed for the elevator. Once the second floor arrived, he stepped out and headed up the hall to find Doc.

Doc was sitting up in bed when Marty walked in, an IV hooked to his wrist and his leg in a cast. He looked thin, but happy. "Hello Marty," he grinned.

"Hey Doc," The teenager grinned, sitting by the side of his bed. "How do you feel?"

"Better," the scientist shifted slightly. "According to the doctors I have a couple of cracked ribs and some bad bruising. My leg was broken in numerous places but they managed to fix it. Apparently if you hadn't set it in the makeshift splint it would have had to have been amputated." Reaching across, he squeezed Marty's hand. "Thanks,"

Marty smiled, squeezing back. "I'm glad you're okay Doc, I was really worried about you,"

"Well I'm being let out tomorrow so clearly I'm fine," the scientist shrugged. "I hope Einstein's alright,"

"I'm sure he's fine Doc," the teenager reassured. "You built that automatic feeder so I don't think he'll be hungry,"

"Well hopefully he hasn't broken anything in my absence,"

Marty snickered. "He'll be alright,"

A nurse knocked on the door. "Sir? It's time to leave, I'm afraid,"

Marty looked at his watch, eyes widening. "Geeze, how long was I asleep?!"

"Several hours," the nurse responded, coming over to check on Doc. "Doctor Brown will be let out tomorrow morning, you can pick him up then,"

"Right," the teen nodded, before looking at Doc. "See you tomorrow,"

"See you later," Doc nodded as Marty headed out.

The teenager stopped at the door. "I'll park your truck back at your place and I'll pick you up in the morning,"

"Right, see ya," Doc waved.

Marty waved back as he headed out, walking down the hall back towards the elevators. He cringed, realising that it must have been a few days since he'd last had a shower and he must be covered in dirt. His t-shirt was dusty and he made a mental note to get washed as soon as he got back home.

The teenager got into the driver's side of the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. He did get a couple of looks from strangers, possibly who were wondering what a seventeen-year-old boy was doing driving a mad scientist's truck. Marty ignored them as he drove back to Doc's place and parked the truck. He got out, taking his skateboard and bag with him, and locked up. He got on his skateboard and headed down the street towards his house.

….

"MARTY MCFLY WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

 _So much for sneaking back in,_ Marty thought with a cringe. His mother was standing in the doorway, arms crossed and tapping her foot.

"Where have you been all day? You told me you wouldn't be long! I was _this close,"_ she held her thumb and forefinger millimetres from each other for emphasis, "to calling the police!"

"Sorry," Marty cringed, setting his bag down. "I got caught up, Doc got hurt working on the DeLorean and I took him to hospital,"

"You're filthy!" Lorraine looked the boy over. "What have you been doing? Rolling around in the dirt?"

"Uh… yeah… something like that." Marty nodded.

"Go and have a shower, now." Lorraine pointed in the direction of the bathroom. As Marty trudged past, she noticed the bandages around his waist. She grabbed his arm and stopped him, lifting his shirt up.

"What's all this?!"

Marty gulped. Now what? Tell his mother that Doc had invented a time machine and he'd gone back to the Wild West and been shot? Say that another bunch of Libyans turned up? "I tripped down some rocks and cut my side by the air force base," he lied. "I'm fine, honestly,"

Lorraine raised an eyebrow but let him go. Marty grabbed some spare clothes from his room (which thankfully was the way he'd left it - a mess) before going into the bathroom. He locked the door, got undressed, removed the bandaging, put on the bag to cover his cast and took a shower. The water that ran down the drain was clearly full of dirt and dried blood. Bits of leaves and twigs were washed out of his hair and down the drain. He closed his eyes and just let the hot water run over him. He'd missed being able to have a shower.

Eventually he made himself get out, drying off and getting dressed again. He looked at the pile of bandages and just decided to throw them out. He'd survived the last few days, he figured he'd be alright without them. Gathering up his dirty laundry, he left the bathroom and dumped his clothes in the laundry basket, throwing the bandaging in the bin.

"Well look who's back," a sarcastic, nasally voice drifted over from the living room, and Marty sighed.

"Hey Linda, great to see you too sis,"

"You spent the whole day with Doc?" She didn't look over, too busy curling her hair for the eleventh time. "Geeze, no wonder you don't have any friends,"

"Linda!" George exclaimed. "I'm sure Marty has plenty of friends. He's got Jennifer after all,"

"I don't like her, Marty," Lorraine frowned. "Any girl that calls a boy or hangs round with a boy is just asking for trouble. When I was your age I never talked to boys, or called boys, or sat and parked with boys,"

Marty sighed and looked in the fridge for something to eat. _Great, missed you guys too._

…..

"I really appreciate this Marty," Doc replied. He was sat in the front of the truck as Marty was driving him home. His leg was in a cast and he had been given crutches to use to help him to walk. He was told to use them for six weeks, after which time his leg should have healed enough for him to manage without.

"No problem, Doc. If I hadn't picked you up, you would have had to get a taxi," Marty replied. He'd become more confident with driving the van over the past couple of months. He had learned to drive in a rickety old Ford, so driving something four times the size had been a bit daunting.

He pulled in the driveway of Doc's place and parked the van. Doc got out and headed towards the front door, thankful he still had his keys with him as he unlocked the door and walked in. Almost immediately, Einstein came running over, tail wagging and barking like mad.

"Hey Einstein," Doc grinned, sitting on the sofa and petting the dog lovingly. "Sorry about leaving you here boy," Einstein didn't seem to mind, he was too busy greeting Marty and Doc with a lot of enthusiasm. Marty chuckled, ruffling the dog's fur.

"He seems okay to me,"

"Yeah, he's fine, thank goodness," Doc nodded. "Happy and lively as usual,"

"Which is more than can be said for my family," Marty cringed.

Doc frowned. "What happened?"

"Well first my mom shouted at me the minute I got in the door, then I had Linda's sarcasm followed by a rant from my mom about how she "never talked to boys at her age", saying that my girlfriend is bad news," Marty sighed.

Doc shook his head. "Jennifer is a lovely girl,"

"That's what I keep telling her!" Marty said. "But she just goes on a rant about how "back in her day" yadda yadda yadda,"

Doc chuckled. The doorbell rang and Marty went over to answer it. He was a little startled to see two police officers standing there. "Hello,"

"Good morning. If it is possible, we would like to have a word with you and Doctor Emmett Brown,"

"Uh, sure, come in," Marty took a step back and the officers walked in. One of them was carrying a small notepad and a pen, jotting down a couple of notes.

The officers took a seat on the sofa next to Doc. "I believe you know the whereabouts of the stolen plutonium,"

Doc's face seemed to pale slightly, but other than that he stayed calm. "I don't know what you're talking about officer. I haven't seen any plutonium,"

"So I'm sure you won't mind us looking around then," one of the officers said. He was a tall, blond man with thick eyebrows who looked similar to one of Marco's men from 1870. He began looking around the garage.

Marty exchanged a look with Doc, mouthing _now what?_

 _I don't know,_ Doc mouthed back, biting his lip.

"What's this, then?" The second officer, a shorter man with black hair and what appeared to be a permanent frown, said as he pulled out a yellow box from beneath Doc's bed. On it was written "Plutonium: Handle with care,"

"It seems as though you _do_ know where the plutonium went," Officer Eyebrows said. "That means I'm afraid you shall both be put into custody for questioning."

...

 **A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!**


	7. Interrogation

Marty paced back and forth in the cell. His mind was going a mile a second. This was all wrong. For two weeks, nobody had seemed to care about the plutonium. Now, that had all gone to hell. Doc had been taken into questioning hours ago and Marty hadn't seen him since. The teenager hoped that Doc wouldn't get in trouble for this, for the time machine, for… well… _anything._

Something struck Marty's mind and he stopped pacing, before walking back and forth even faster. What if Doc was committed? What if the police declared him legally insane and he was locked away? What would happen to all his inventions? Would the DeLorean be destroyed, or displayed to the public? What if the time machine fell into the wrong hands? If someone untrustworthy got hold of the DeLorean, the entire space-time continuum could be destroyed.

Marty kept muttering to himself, continuing to pace back and forth. He ran a hand through his hair periodically, as if trying to calm down. It wasn't working, only succeeding in making him more nervous. His eyes were as wild as Doc's as he continued to walk around the small cell. He didn't care about looking ridiculous, he was too concerned about what could happen.

The door swung open with a clang and two police guards stood there. "Mr McFly, come with us,"

Marty seemed to pale a little, and he nodded. "O-okay,"

One of the officers grabbed his arm and pulled him out the room. The teenager fought back. "H-hey!"

The man only tightened his grip as they approached another room. A glass window lay in one wall, and in the centre of the room were two chairs, a table and a tape recorder. A young woman in her early thirties sat in one chair, her arms crossed on the table and leaning forward. The officer pushed Marty into the room and locked the door behind him. Marty sighed and sat in the other chair.

"Hello Mr McFly," The woman smiled in a sickly sweet way that made Marty want to gag. "I'm Inspector Jane Colwell," she held out her hand.

Marty raised an eyebrow and shook it gingerly. "Look, Doc didn't take that plutonium-"

"Ah ah ah!" The woman held up a hand to silence him as she pressed a button on the recorder. A small whirring noise indicated that it was recording everything being said. "Now Marty, anything you say here can and _will_ be given as evidence in the court of law if the judge depends on it. Everything you say may be given as evidence. If you attempt to lie in court, this recording will be held against you. Do you understand?"

Marty gritted his teeth. "Yes ma'am,"

"Good," The woman chirped. "Now, can you tell me from where Doctor Brown acquired the plutonium?"

"He didn't steal it!" Marty snapped. "So if you're suggesting that you can cut it out,"

"Marty," The woman giggled sweetly, making Marty want to gag again. "I never said anything of the sort. I simply asked you where he got it from,"

"Libyan terrorists," Marty muttered. "They gave it to him to make a nuclear weapon but he did nothing of the sort. He kept it,"

"A nuclear weapon? Now what would a seventy-year-old man want with a nuclear weapon?"

"He didn't build one!" Marty repeated. "He did _not_ built a weapon of any sort!"

"But the detectives uncovered something _very_ interesting at Doctor Brown's garage. A DeLorean with a few extraordinary modifications,"

Marty couldn't stop himself from gulping. They'd found the DeLorean. Now what? "Uh, that's mine. He was helping me modify it for one of those 'Car of the future' contests in Arizona,"

The woman narrowed her eyes, still smiling. "Mr McFly, may I remind you that it is illegal to lie to a police officer, even more so to an investigator."

 _Shit,_ Marty thought. _Now what the hell am I supposed to do?_

"It's a time machine," his mouth worked before his brain, and he clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words escaped. He'd really done it now. He cursed himself for his complete idiocy. Now Doc would be committed for sure and it was all his fault.

The woman perked up at that. "A time machine? Marty this isn't a sci-fi comic book, time machines aren't possible. Although that theory would explain all the strange clocks around Doctor Brown's garage, and the bizarre display on the dashboard of the car."

"He tried to build a replica time machine, but it doesn't really work," Marty explained. _Shut up,_ part of his mind scolded him, _you're only digging yourself into a deeper hole and dragging Doc down with you._

"This man seems quite… _eccentric…_ when it comes to inventing, doesn't he? Some people may built hoverboards, holographic display systems, but a _time machine?!_ That really is peculiar," the woman was still smiling. Marty would punch her face in, if it weren't for the fact that he was being watched through the one-way glass. He wasn't stupid; he knew they were watching his every move.

"It's just a replica. Like how some people build model Death Stars, this is just a model. It just so happens to be built into a car. So it's practical," Marty was internally screaming at himself to just stop talking.

"Then, Mr McFly, if it doesn't _actually_ work, how do you explain the bullet wound in your side?" The woman chirped again.

Marty's eyes widened. "H-how did you know about that?!"

"A couple of officers searched you. The type of gun to cause a wound like that has been illegal in America since 1880, so how do you explain that one?"

Marty's heart was racing and his hands were sweating. He wiped his palms on his jeans. He was running out of ideas. He was only dragging himself and Doc closer to being arrested, or worse, _committed._ "Um... uh…"

Inspector Colwell sat back in her chair. "Nothing? No explanation at all? Or is it just that you're afraid of telling the truth? We're not idiots, Mr McFly, so please don't assume we are. We know you and Doctor Brown have been up to something unusual, and we _will_ find out what,"

The inspector clicked her fingers, and two tall, strongly-built men opened the door and walked in, grabbing Marty by the shoulders. Marty, of course, struggled against them. "H-hey! Let me go!"

"We have means and ways of getting the truth out of you, Mr McFly, and we _will_ use them," the woman sneered, her sickly sweet expression suddenly turning cold. She looked at the boy's two guards. "You know where to take him,"

"Yes ma'am," they nodded and began to drag Marty from the room. All the while the teenager was kicking and trying to wriggle free from the men's grip as he was dragged through another set of doors. He frantically tried to remember where he was being taken - it might help him escape later - but soon he forgot the first few corridors and became confused.

Another door swung open, and Marty was thrown into a chair. His hands were tied behind his back and his legs were tied to those of the chair. A single light hung from the ceiling, suspended on a cord. Marty was grimly reminded of a mafia interrogation room, and he paled.

The guards stood either side of the door as a man walked in. Despite the low levels of light in the room, he was wearing shades to hide his eyes. He was wearing a plain black suit with a white shirt and black tie and his face was set in a scowl. He took a seat opposite the teenager.

"Let me go!" Marty yelled, struggling in his bonds. "You can't keep me locked here against my will!"

The man smirked. "Oh we will, we'll keep you here for as long as it takes for you to tell us the truth about Doctor Brown's invention."

Marty glared at the man, still struggling in the chair. "You can't make me say anything,"

"Not physically, but maybe after a few days without anything to eat or drink, you might soften up," the man sneered. He rose from his chair and left the room, being followed out by the two guards as the door swung shut.

….

Marty had been struggling in the chair for ages. His wrists had been rubbed raw and were starting to hurt, but he kept struggling anyway. He was determined to get out of here. This was like a horror movie, with the protagonist being held against their will and forced to send their best friend to jail.

A thought struck Marty as he smirked a bit. The guards were standing right outside his door, right? So maybe he could get one of them to let him out if he managed to persuade them enough.

"Hey!" He yelled. "Can you let me out? I gotta go to the bathroom!"

"Nice try kid," one of the guards walked in to look at him. "But you haven't had anything to drink."

"This is from earlier," the teen replied, shifting in the chair and pressing his knees together. "Come on, just let me go,"

"No," The guard gave him a stern look. "You can wait,"

"Please?" Marty begged as he fidgeted in the chair, giving the guard a desperate look. He tried his best to imitate a child, pressing his legs together harder. "If I wet myself it'll be your fault!"

"Fine," The guard untied him and dragged him out the chair towards the door. He walked him down the hall to the bathrooms. "Go on then,"

Marty darted inside and pushed the door shut. He knew he had about three minutes before the guard got suspicious, so he'd have to be quick. He turned on the taps to make some noise before climbing onto the radiator below a window. The window wasn't huge, but it was enough to squeeze through. What he wasn't expecting for the radiator to be wet from rain that had dripped in through the open window, and his foot slipped.

He managed to land on the floor without making too much of a noise, growling. That was that idea scrapped. He figured the guard would probably barge in here in a minute anyway, so he relieved himself, washed his hands and left the bathroom. The guard grabbed his arm again and dragged him back to the room, tying him back up in the chair again. He closed and locked the door behind him and joined his partner outside, leaving Marty alone in the dark.

The teenager sighed and lowered his head. Now what was he supposed to do? He was completely out of ideas now. Doc would be sent to prison, or committed, and it would be all his fault. He'd really fucked up big this time.

 _Well Marty, another failure to add to your long list of failures. You just keep messing things up._

….

A few days had passed by the time Marty saw that man again. His head was spinning and he was incredibly thirsty, hungry and tired. His wrists and ankles were red and sore and had started to bleed from his constant struggling. The man reentered and sat opposite the teenager again.

"Ready to talk yet?"

Marty glared at him, fighting the urge to swear and kick and scream. "No."

The man narrowed his eyes and stood up, making his way over to the teenager. He pulled back a hand, balled it into a fist and punched Marty straight in the stomach. Marty gasped, the air temporarily knocked out of him, and he curled up slightly in the chair, wincing and gritting his teeth.

The man pulled back Marty's head to look at him. "You sure about that,"

Marty didn't respond. Well, not verbally at least. He spat directly in the man's face.

The man growled and stepped back, wiping his face and glaring at the teenager. He punched Marty in the stomach again, harder than before.

Marty cried out in pain, curling up in the chair more and coughing. The man sneered.

"Now are you going to tell me?"

"I already told you, it's a time machine," Marty growled.

The man narrowed his eyes. "Really? A time machine?"

"Yes. What are you, deaf _and_ stupid?" Marty got a slap around his the face for that, but he didn't care.

"So, can you tell me how this _time machine_ of yours works?" The man pulled his chair closer and sat down, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Two words: Flux capacitor." Marty said simply.

The man looked a little more interested than he had been five minutes ago. "How does that work?"

"No idea," Marty deadpanned. "Physics is not my strong point, you want a more detailed explanation ask someone else,"

The man raised an eyebrow, but asked no more questions. He rose from his chair to talk to the guards outside. Marty strained to hear what they were saying, but he didn't need to, as a minute later the guards walked in and untied him. He was pulled out the room and down a corridor, through some doors, down another corridor and eventually guided to the front door.

"Good for you, we're done here," one of the guards grunted, pushing Marty through the doors. "Get outta here,"

Marty didn't think twice about darting down the steps and around the corner. He stopped running after a few hundred yards and rubbed his wrists. They were red and sore. No doubt from the ropes. The teenager sighed and headed back towards his house.

He wondered briefly on his way home if that really _was_ "case closed", or if he'd be summoned to court, be arrested or something else ridiculous like that. He hoped that he'd heard the last of this, he didn't want to be dragged back in _there_ again. So far he had managed to not obtain a criminal record, and he wasn't prepared to get one, with the first item on the list being "plutonium theft".

Marty was surprised to notice Doc was at his house as he walked in, sitting on the couch and talking to Lorraine. At the sound of the teen's entrance, both adults looked up and immediately dashed over.

"Marty!" Lorraine began looking him over to see if he was hurt. "Oh my gosh thank goodness you're alright! Emmett told me everything!"

"Thank God you're okay Marty," Doc sighed in relief. "I didn't know what to expect when they told me they were keeping you in custody for three days."

"More like prison," Marty muttered under his breath. His stomach growled and he pushed past his mother and the scientist. "I'd love to stand and chat but I'm absolutely starving," he said as he made his way for the kitchen, grabbing a bag of potato chips.

"I'm not surprised," Doc replied. "Certainly not by the way they were treating you. By the look of your wrists, they kept you tied to a chair,"

"Yep," Marty said through a mouthful of chips. "You'd think they were the freaking mafia,"

"Well if Emmett hadn't been using illegally-obtained plutonium none of this would have happened," Lorraine suddenly snapped.

Doc blinked, but gave her a stern look. "If I hadn't used that plutonium for the DeLorean, Mrs McFly, the Libyan terrorists would have used it in a nuclear weapon." he pointed out.

"But did you have to drag my son into it?" Lorraine glared. "He's seventeen, not even out of high school yet and you're involving him in dangerous activities. I always knew you were a nutcase,"

"Mom!" Marty yelled, abandoning his food and storming over. "Doc is _not_ a nutcase!"

"Marty he's prevented you from having any real friends!" Lorraine exclaimed.

"Doc _is_ a real friend!"

"You've become a social outcast because of him, spending more time with him than your own girlfriend!" Lorraine yelled.

"At least I'm not an alcoholic!" Marty snapped, glaring. He turned round and stormed out the door, growling under his breath.

Lorraine swore and stormed into the kitchen.

Doc quickly grabbed his coat and followed Marty out the door. "Marty!"

"I've had enough!" The teen yelled. "I've been gone three days and the first thing she does when I get back is blame you for everything!"

"Well it is my fault!" Doc called, running to catch up with Marty. "I shouldn't have dragged you into that,"

"Don't think that just because of _her,"_ Marty sighed. "It wasn't your fault,"

"Marty your mother is right. It isn't right for a boy your age to spend all his time helping some lonesome old coot invent things in his garage. You should be out with other kids your age, not helping someone like me," Doc replied. Marty could tell from the look on his face that he wasn't joking in the slightest.

"But Doc I've known you for years! Besides, I don't get on well with other kids my age,"

"I reckon if you had never met me you'd have plenty of normal friends by now," Doc sighed. "I'm a bad influence."

"No you're not" Marty scoffed. "An alcoholic mother and a wimpy father are bad influences, not a complete genius like you,"

"Marty," Doc sighed frustratedly. "I'm sure your parents have a much more positive effect on you than I do,"

"Not when Mom spends all her time drinking and Dad gets shoved around by Biff all the time!" Marty exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air as he kept walking.

"Marty, listen to me." Doc stopped walking, and Marty turned to face him. "I don't want you spending any more time with me and my ridiculous inventions. All I do is land you in trouble and it's not good,"

Marty's mouth fell open. "What?!"

"You heard me," the inventor said sternly. "I don't want you anywhere near me from now on. If it continues like this you'll be arrested before you're twenty,"

"Doc you can't be serious!" Marty protested.

"I am, Marty. Stay away from me and you should manage to stay clear of any horrific incidents." Doc said, ending the conversation and walking back to his garage.

Marty stood there for a moment, feeling though as he'd been kicked in the stomach. He felt sick. Tears welled up in his eyes but he furiously wiped them away, turning and running back home. He slammed the door shut behind him and went straight to his bedroom, slamming that door shut too. He sat on his bed and gritted his teeth, trying to believe that what just happened had not occurred. That he was just dreaming. Doc wouldn't really tell him to stay away, would he?

A few tears escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He'd just lost his best friend, all because of some fucking terrorists that thought it would be a good idea to make a nuclear weapon. Of all the scientists in America, why did they have to choose Doc? Why couldn't they have just made the thing back in their own country? Why did he and Doc have to be dragged into that mess?

Doc's words continued to echo in his mind. " _If you had never met me you'd have plenty of normal friends by now."_ Marty wanted to throw up. He did have friends, sure not lots of them, but at least he had _some._ He had Jennifer, and the band and his classmates. He wasn't the most popular guy in school but he still had _friends._ He wasn't Billy-no-mates. It made him angry that Doc thought Marty was a loner. Just because he spent more time with the scientist than his classmates didn't make him a loner.

Growling, Marty picked up his guitar and hooked it up to the amplifier. He began angrily strumming chords out, despite his right hand still being in a cast. He didn't care at this point. This was what he did when he was angry: play angry music. He didn't break things, or punch people, he just played music in the hope that it might calm him down. It usually worked as well. Often he'd find that after a half-hour or so of playing, he was much more calm.

This time though, Marty was still playing guitar two hours later when Lorraine called him to dinner. She had given him a glare and told him he was grounded aside from school, being told to be back by half three at the latest every afternoon after school. He didn't care - with Doc banning him from seeing him it wasn't like he had places to go any more.

...

 **A/N: Did everyone have a good Christmas? I got a little Wheatley LED keyring and a t-shirt with the DeLorean on it, plus I got to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens on the 24th.**

 **To the guest who reviewed (I don't know if it's the same person, but you know who you are): Thank you so much for the support. I'm glad you like the story. This is actually the story with a) the most words and b) the most consistent in chapter lengths. It's got much longer chapters than any of my other stories (which in comparison to this I think are pretty crap). Plus I'm having a blast writing it.**

 **I didn't mean to make Doc's words to Marty at the end of this chapter so boyfriend-girlfriend-y. Honestly I didn't. I tried for a while to get it to come out right, but no matter what I did it sounded like a boyfriend breaking up with his girlfriend.**

 **Sorry Marty!**


	8. Struggles

Doc had never regretted a decision so much in his life.

His lab had never been more quiet, now that Marty was nowhere to be seen. There was no sound of a guitar, a teenager asking what something was or what it did. No sound of something breaking. At the moment Doc would have preferred even _that_ to the absence of the teenager. Einstein seemed to be able to tell what had happened as he was sat in his bed whining.

Doc frowned and walked over to him, kneeling down and patting his head. "I'm sorry Einy, but it's for his own good. He'll get into serious trouble if he hangs around me any longer,"

Einstein whined again before laying his head back down. Doc sighed and stood up, going over to the DeLorean. He narrowed his eyes. That blasted time machine was what had caused all this trouble. It had caused Marty to be hurt both physically and emotionally several times. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but Doc was beginning to regret ever building it in the first place. All it had done was cause problems.

Sighing, the scientist grabbed a screwdriver and pulled the door open. He moved the tool towards the time circuits, meaning to dismantle them, but he stopped. He couldn't take this machine apart, not after spending thirty years and most of his family fortune on it. It was the only invention that had been successful so far, the only one that had been worthwhile. It had made him feel so happy, knowing he'd made something that _worked._

Doc got out the car again and shut the door, carelessly tossing the screwdriver back into the toolbox. He sat down on the sofa and laid back. His usual over-the-top enthusiasm was completely gone. He felt tired, old and lonely. It occurred to him that he didn't actually have many friends. If he had, he'd be able to go and see them. But he didn't. Marty was the only person he knew well, and he was distancing himself from the teen in what he believed was for Marty's own good.

A picture frame on the table next to him caught his eye. It was of him and the teen, taken on Marty's thirteenth birthday by his mother. Doc had presented him with some new CDs, which Marty had tucked under one arm in the photo. Both of them had ridiculous party hats on and they were grinning like idiots. Doc took the photo in his hands, running his fingers over the embossed wooden frame. He sighed and replaced it on the table.

 _Geeze, Marty's only been gone a few days and I'm already miserable._

Doc got up again and tried to focus on an older project, one that had been sitting in the corner of the lab for a while, collecting dust. It was supposed to be an automatic stereo system, but so far it had been a complete failure. Maybe trying to fix that would make Doc forget about the fact that he'd told Marty to stay away from him.

…..

Marty aimlessly rolled a pencil around his desk as he listened to his Physics teacher bore on and on about space or something. He wasn't paying attention. This became evident when she called on him to answer a question.

"Marty?"

His head snapped up so fast he could have sworn his neck nearly broke. "Y-yeah?"

"Do you know how long it takes for sunlight to reach Earth?"

"Uh… um… an hour?" He guessed, shrugging a little.

"No, clearly you weren't listening. I assume that if you fail your exam you'll know why?"

"Because I wasn't listening?" Another guess.

"Yes, now stop being so ignorant and pay attention," She sighed, going back to wittering on about something.

Marty put his chin in his palm in a vague attempt to look as though he was concentrating, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't help but think about what Doc had said a few days ago. Did Doc really think Marty had few friends? Was the scientist seriously a bad influence? Marty had been friends with Doc for years, and only _now_ did Doc suddenly decide that he should stay away from him. If anything, Marty was furious.

Classes dragged by like paint drying, and as soon as they were over Marty got on his skateboard and headed home. He was still grounded. As he passed the town centre, Tiff and his gang approached him, sitting in Tiff's brand new BMW convertible. Tiff was behind the wheel, a retarded sneer on his face as usual, a trademark of the Tannen family.

"Well look who it is!" Tiff sneered, driving slowly alongside the pavement where Marty was.

"Fuck off Tiff," Marty sighed, not looking at him.

"Oooooh," Alex sneered. "Someone got up on the wrong side of bed this morning."

"Where you going McFly?" Katrina called, wearing a ridiculously short skirt as always.

"Home, where the fuck do you think I'm going?" Marty snapped, grabbing a lamppost to pull himself round the corner.

"So you're not hanging round with that old freak anymore?" Michael laughed.

Marty growled and ignored him. He wasn't going to retaliate, not after what happened last time. Michael could go and-

"Leave the poor kid alone," Tiff said in a fake mocking voice, still driving the car slowly alongside Marty. "He just wants to go home and jerk off to some kid's TV show,"

 _Don't react Marty, he's doing it to annoy you. Don't give them what they're looking for._

"You're so gullible McFly! Look! Your shoe's untied!"

 _Don't react don't react don't-_

"Oof!" Marty was sent flying off his skateboard as one of his legitimately untied shoelaces got caught under the wheel.

 _Man, I hate irony._ Marty grumbled as he got back on his board, wiping his hands off on his jeans. He wasn't going to so much as look at the group in the car who were still stalking him.

Marty's fall had caused the group to laugh hysterically, and Marty's face went red, but he soon turned onto his street. Before he could approach his house, however, Tiff pulled the car over and parked it in the middle of the path, blocking Marty's way. The four jumped out and stood in front of Marty.

Marty didn't care at this point and tried to push past them, only to be shoved backwards, hard, and he fell over. He was briefly reminded of his early years at high school, when he wasn't exactly the most popular kid. His middle-school friends had left him in favour of others, and he was left practically alone.

Sighing, he got back on his feet and tried walking round them again. Alex smirked and shoved him back, ripping the skateboard from his hands.

"Hey!" Marty protested, lunging forward to try and get it back. "That's mine!"

"I don't know McFly, it's a nice board," Tiff took it from Alex and looked it over. "It would be a shame if it broke!" He tossed the board into the street, just in front of a passing van. Marty tried to grab it, but the wheels of the van ran over it and the board broke clean in two.

Marty grabbed the two halves of the board and glared daggers at the van as it just drove on. He narrowed his eyes as he noticed the familiar "Dr E Brown Enterprises" text printed on the back. He opened his mouth to shout, but closed it again. What was the point? Doc had told Marty to stay away from him, what good would it do to yell at him?

A punch in the stomach brought Marty back down to Earth. He stumbled back, a hand around his waist, gasping for air. Tiff was laughing and jeering. Growling, Marty swung one half of the board at the Tannen's head, but missed. The momentum pulled him so he was side-on to the group and he received a hard kick in the ribs. He fell to the floor, clutching his side.

 _Yep,_ he thought grimly. _Just like the start of high school._

The group got in their car and left, not before running over the halves of Marty's skateboard to break it up more. The wheels were forced off the wooden board and the base splintered. The car drove off, the group's hollering heard from the other end of the street. Marty got up and brushed himself off. He took the broken pieces of the skateboard and tossed them into a nearby trashcan before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking home.

Marty pushed his front door open and headed straight for his room. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, he just wanted to be alone with his thoughts. He shoved the bedroom door shut behind him and threw his bag into the corner, before falling onto his bed. He gazed up at the ceiling as a couple of tears formed in his eyes.

 _Grow up, McFly, don't be so pathetic,_ a voice in his head reprimanded him as he wiped his eyes. He sat up and punched his pillow a few times before laying back down. If he was honest, he hated his life.

Now that made him sound spoiled. He had a home, a family, a guitar, a girlfriend and…

And that was it. He would have said he had a mad scientist as a best friend, but he wasn't sure of that any more. He didn't know if he'd ever talk to Doc again, or if he'd even make eye contact. Doc had been such a big part of his life, and now that he was gone, Marty felt… empty.

Not in the way that felt like he'd been dumped. No, no it wasn't like _that…_ more of a feeling of abandonment. The same feeling he'd had when all his middle school friends had left him on the first day of high school. He felt totally alone, scared. At least he'd had Doc then. The scientist was his best friend, the only person Marty could really talk to about bullying issues.

He still had bully problems, but this time, Doc wasn't there to help him. He had no-one. His alcoholic mother and quite frankly wimpy father were hopeless, especially because George knew it was a Tannen that was picking on Marty. The man had enough trouble with Biff as it was, he didn't want any more issues. Marty was completely alone on this one.

Apart from Jennifer.

Jennifer had always had his back, and he'd had hers. They were inseparable, like two peas in a pod, yin and yang, hydrogen and oxygen etcetera. She had always been supportive, caring, kind and understanding. She was the only thing in his life at the moment that really made it seem worth it. Marty smiled a little as he pictured himself with her, sitting together on a bench, arms around each other and just enjoying each other's company.

His phone rang, something he wasn't expecting, and he jumped. That couldn't be Doc, could it? Picking up the phone, he took a deep breath and answered.

"Hello?"

" _Hey Marty,"_ it was Jennifer. Marty smiled, savouring the sound of her voice.

"Hey babe, what's up?"

" _Marty, we need to talk,"_

Something was definitely wrong. Jennifer sounded, _worried._ She didn't sound like her usual perky self at all.

"Jen?" Marty frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. "What's the matter?"

" _Listen, I… I don't think it's a good idea for us to see each other any more."_

Alright, something was _certainly_ wrong. "What?" Marty gasped. "Why?"

" _You've been acting… different. You don't want to see anyone or do anything and it's… it's difficult for me. You're acting so depressed, and I can't be seen going out with someone who looks like they want to jump off a cliff."_

That was it? _That_ was what this was all about? Sure Marty had been a bit miserable recently, but was that really enough for Jennifer to dump him?

" _Besides,"_ she kept talking, even though Marty had heard enough. " _I've met this… other guy. He's really sweet, and not pushy like you sometimes are, he really appreciates me for, well,_ me," she paused, and Marty heard her sigh. " _You understand, right?"_

Marty didn't answer for a moment, his mind reeling with the shock. Only when Jennifer repeated the question did he finally answer. "Yeah, I guess so," he mumbled into the phone.

Jennifer seemed satisfied with that. " _Good, I'll see you around, okay?"_ Without so much as a goodbye, Marty slammed the phone back down hard.

That short conversation had felt like a hundred repetitive kicks in the stomach. The nerve of that girl, to dump him _right_ when he'd been thinking about how she'd always been there for him. About how she'd always supported him, and he'd done the same with her. She'd just dumped him, and now he really did have no one.

He didn't eat much at dinner that evening. He pushed the food around his plate until it went cold, ditching it in the bin and going straight back to bed. He didn't care that his stomach growled, or that he would surely have a headache in the morning from hunger. None of that seemed to matter to him as he kicked his shoes off and got into bed, trying to forget all of the events of that day.

…..

School seemed all the more harder without Jennifer there. Classes dragged by more slowly, he noticed, and he was getting a _lot_ more negative attention than usual. It had started with shoving and name-calling, and had escalated into punches by the end of the day. At every given opportunity, Tiff or one of his gang (or all of them, if Marty was _really_ unlucky) would shove him around.

Marty didn't react in the slightest. He just didn't care any more. He didn't give a shit about what people said or thought of him. He just wanted to get the day over with so he could go home and sleep. That was the only time he felt okay. He could drift away from this hellish reality for a while and just do whatever he pleased. He could play guitar in the middle of the street and no one would bat an eye. He could work on the DeLorean with Doc, without the scientist telling him he was dangerous and a threat to Marty's social life. Heck, he could skateboard as fast as he liked, _anywhere_ he liked without being told off. His parents were relaxed, _cool_ even.

But when he woke up, that perfect dream-world disappeared and he was forced back into reality.

One particular school day had been awful. It wasn't just the lessons, it was the spare time between lessons that had been the worst bit. First of all, someone had taped a piece of paper with the words "kick me" to his back. Of course, people had obeyed, and he'd spent a good ten minutes getting kicked around before Strickland ripped the paper off him and gave him a lecture about how he was a slacker. The man had told him how "no McFly had ever achieved anything in the history of Hill Valley", and sent him on his way. He'd then had his homework stolen and handed in as Tiff's (it was math homework and their handwriting was practically identical), which had lead to him getting a detention for not doing his homework. He'd tried to explain to the teacher what had happened, but this was Mr Farthing, the most boring man on the planet. There was no getting out of it.

He'd been an hour and fifteen minutes late home, causing Lorraine to be furious. He'd had his guitar, Walkman and GameBoy confiscated as a result. He now had nothing to do. He'd done his homework, had dinner (although he still barely ate) and just sat in his room. His comic books were suddenly very unappealing and boring to him, and he didn't have any other game to play.

This was all Doc's fault. If that stupid scientist hadn't told Marty that he couldn't hang around him any more, he'd at least have someone to be with or at least _talk to_ right now. Jennifer had dumped him, he'd been kicked out the band for a poor performance the other day, he'd been bullied and given a detention and his parents didn't seem to care. All because Doc had ditched him.

 _I hope you're happy now, Doc._

… _._

Doc was in fact not happy at all. He missed Marty, he missed having him around. But it was for the kid's own good, or so he believed. He'd told himself that he was a danger to the teen and had therefore tried to stay away from him. The scientist had actually got a lot completed in that time. He'd finished old projects, started and completed new ones. Only a small handful of them actually worked, but he'd accomplished something.

Einstein had gotten over that little bout of "where's Marty?" syndrome and was back to his usual happy self. He'd still trot around the lab holding a wrench in his mouth every so often, tail wagging. It was almost as if the canine hadn't noticed Marty was even there in the first place.

Unfortunately the same thing couldn't be said for the inventor. His lab was almost deathly quiet without the teenager around, but it was for the best. Marty had become a social outcast since he'd met Doc. He had few friends to begin with, and as Marty spent more and more time with him, the number of friends had dwindled.

The teenager could go back to being a normal person now. He could have friends, hang out with people his age, spend more time with his girlfriend. He should be happy now, right? Of course he would be, Doc needed to stop fretting over the teen's wellbeing. If he was gonna keep Marty safe from his crazy inventions, he needed to start by seeing Marty as just another person. Not a friend, not practically family, just another face in the crowd.

…..

Marty had started coming home with bruises almost every day after school. They were mostly on his arms and face, but sometimes, if he was punched in the gut hard enough, his stomach would be bruised as well. He kept this to himself. He didn't want to worry his father. If he told George that he was having Tannen problems too, his dad would only become more fearful of Biff. His mother seemed blissfully unaware of any of this, absorbed in her drinking. Dave worked nights, so he was never around to see it and Linda spent so much time with her makeup and her friends to notice.

The youngest McFly had been wearing long sleeves a lot recently, as well. He didn't want people seeing the marks on his arms. It wasn't just bruises covering his arms now. He didn't want people seeing those either, but if anyone found out how much of a weakling he was, his life would be ruined even more. He'd abandoned the thin white shirts for thicker sweaters, t-shirts and darker shirts. The thin white ones could easily be seen through, which meant that they had to go. His denim jacket had never been worn so much and he'd abandoned his favourite red body warmer. It made him stand out in the crowd, which is the last thing he wanted right now.

He had stopped playing guitar, stopped mucking around at school, stopped _being himself_ in general. The Marty McFly everyone knew was fading, being replaced with a quiet, depressed, generally deflated teenager. Everyone at school seemed to hang around in groups at lunch, while he sat on his own. He'd chosen an old bench in the corner of the school grounds, a place where nobody would bother him, nobody would talk to him and nobody would pick on him. That's the way he wanted it to be.

Rumours had been spreading about him. Things like he's actually insane, he's gay, he's got some disease. Once the school found out that he'd been dumped by Jennifer, the rumours only grew more intense. Jennifer was actually getting _praise_ for "dumping that McFly freak", and everyone seemed so much more satisfied with her new boyfriend. Marty just kept his head down and his hands in his pockets, trying to ignore the things being said. They hurt.

He chuckled coldly to himself, sitting alone on his bench, trying to force down the tasteless mush of a sandwich. That "sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me" thing was complete and utter bullshit. Their words _did_ hurt. They felt like another stab wound to him every time he heard them. What was worse was that nobody seemed to care about him. Nobody showed a shred of sympathy towards him, not even when he'd shown up to Biology one day with a black eye and a bloody lip. They just carried on with their lives, ignoring the confused and hurt teenager who sat in their class, head down and silent.

The teachers had noticed Marty's change in attitude and just let him get on with it. They assumed it was just a phase; he'd get over it. They had too much work to do to be helping some kid out with his emotions. He wasn't kicking off in class, he wasn't rude and he was doing his homework. In their books, they saw that as an improvement.

Marty was gradually getting thinner. His mother had obviously noticed that he hadn't been eating much at dinner times, so she packed more into his lunch. He didn't want to eat, so he just tossed the food into the bin to make it look like he'd eaten everything. Lorraine seemed satisfied with that, as she didn't pester him about it. He was barely eating. He maybe had a few bites of a sandwich at lunch and tossed the rest away. He felt guilty for wasting food like that, but he just wasn't hungry. He was losing weight, something that he figured wouldn't hurt. His usually bright blue eyes were pale and grey, the spark in them faded.

But what did any of them care? He wasn't causing problems, he was doing his homework and he was staying out their way. That was good enough for them. They still spread rumours, they were teenagers after all, but other than that they left him alone. Apart from Tiff and his gang, of course. They still made his life a living hell. They kept shoving him around, calling him names and punching him. None of the other students seemed fazed by this, they just went about their daily lives. Why should they care anyway? They weren't his friends, nor his family.

There was one thing that allowed Marty to keep going. It was something that nobody knew about. The one thing that Marty actually had control over.

The pain.

He knew he shouldn't be doing it, but it felt so _good_ to have a temporary relief from the daunting school life. He owned a small penknife, given to him by Doc a few years ago. He would stand in the shower and let the hot water take the stress away through the small lines cut into his arms. He felt better afterwards, but not for long. That's why he kept doing it. The temporary relief from the nightmarish school life he achieved for about an hour every evening was what kept him going.

Of course, he never spoke a word about this to anyone else. If they found out, he'd be done for. This was his little secret. One that he'd keep from the outside world. His arms were only so big, however, and he never moved to his hands. He wouldn't go around wearing gloves at school, or he'd get weird looks and be told to remove them. Then everyone would know. He never moved past the wrist, making sure to leave enough of a gap between his hand and his arm so that his skin wouldn't be revealed if his sleeve moved. He moved on to his legs, again keeping the cuts well within the region covered by his jeans. Never above the waist or below the ankle.

This went on for a couple of months or so. The number of cuts he made differed depending on how his day had been. If it had been average, maybe two or three. A bad day warranted six. If his day was absolutely horrible, he'd make at least ten fresh new lines. He'd tried going a day without making a single cut, but it had been too much, and the next day he'd made three times as many to compensate. The two days' worth, plus extra for being so stupid.

This was his life now. He'd lost everything: classmates, his girlfriend, best friend, his guitar, his skateboard. His parents were too caught up in their own little lives to notice what their son was doing to himself. Doc wasn't around to see it, Jennifer wasn't, his band mates weren't. Nobody was, and Marty liked it that way. He could keep himself to himself and not feel guilty about burdening anyone with his pathetic life. Everyone seemed so much happier now that he'd excluded himself. They were much more content, carefree, didn't seem to notice anything unusual outside their friendship circles. They were happy.

And in a way, so was Marty.

...

 **A/N: Oh look. Angst.**

 **Sorry if this is getting dark for some people, but guess what? If you don't like it, don't read it!**


	9. He can't take it any more

He hated his life.

He wasn't happy at all, the way he was. He was miserable, lonely, cold, upset, hurt (both physically and mentally) and weak. Look at what he was doing to himself! Here he was, Marty McFly, a once strong, independant and caring young man. Strong, who was he kidding? He was a weakling, just like his dad. Just like the rest of his family. That's all they were, weak.

Marty sat on his bed with the door shut and locked, gazing down at his arms. The cast that once covered his right hand was gone, thank goodness, and still nobody had found out about his secret. He couldn't afford them to, it would only make his life worse. The scars on his arms were faded, but still visible. They served as a grim reminder that he was stuck with them, no matter how hard he tried to cover them up.

His guitar lay abandoned in the corner, along with a couple of Christmas presents he'd been given but didn't feel as though he deserved: Some CDs, a new watch and some clothes. Why were people still trying to cheer him up by buying him things? They would be much better off if they kept their money. Although, the new hoodie he was given was rather nice. It was black with green stripes running down the arms, and it would cover his face nicely. He'd been keeping his head down a lot recently, so a hooded jacket like that would be just right. Black, too; it wouldn't stand out in a crowd. That was perfect.

Marty was a lot thinner than he had been before. His face was pale and his eyes were dull. His hands were bony and if he took his shirt off (not that he was going to) you could easily see his ribs and his spine, even under all the bruises still adorning his torso. His older clothes were large and baggy on him, so he'd used some of the money given to him for Christmas to buy some smaller ones. His shoes thankfully still fit and he could hide the largeness of his shirts beneath the black hoodie.

He wondered briefly if he'd be stuck like this for ever, or if he'd soon snap out of it. It didn't seem likely, though, as he still felt depressed and empty inside. Doc was still distancing himself from the teen in what the scientist believed to be "his best interests". That was bullshit. Marty had been so much happier with Doc as a friend. Now, without him, he was quiet, lonely and miserable, all the time. He hadn't realised just how important Doc was to him as a friend, and now he had no-one.

…..

School the next day, Monday, was horrible. He was pushed, shoved, punched and harassed more than normal. It was as if, over the Christmas break, people had been planning to make his life even more miserable than it already was. No matter where he went, even if he stuck to the wall in the corridors, he was shoved.

Tiff grabbed the back of his hoodie as he had been making his way to lunch, pulling on it hard. The front of the jacket caught Marty in the throat and choked him. He stumbled backwards, bumping into the taller teenager behind him.

"Where are you going, McFly?" Tiff sneered.

"Lunch," Marty mumbled meekly, avoiding looking Tiff in the eye. This was the last thing he needed right now.

"Didn't you forget something?" Tiff raised a fist and held it near Marty's face.

"Uh...um…" Marty searched his memory for something he might have forgotten.

"You were _supposed_ to do my homework!" Tiff snapped, punching Marty square in the jaw.

Marty wriggled free and dug in his pockets, pulling out a folded piece of completed homework. "There,"

Tiff took the paper and shoved Marty away. "Good, now get out of here,"

Marty didn't stop to think twice as he bolted down the hall and out the door towards his bench. He had to get away, he had to.

The bench was freezing cold, but Marty sat on it anyway. His hands were red from the cold and his breath came out in shallow puffs that could be seen as fog in the frosty air. He was shivering violently; he seemed to be affected more by the cold than he used to be, probably from the loss in weight. It was another reason why he was pathetic - he wasn't strongly built like Tiff and his gang, or any of the boys on the sports teams. He may even be smaller than some of the girls in the younger years.

He couldn't eat, no matter how hard he tried. The food he was trying to consume stuck in his throat and made him gag. He tossed it all in the bin, ignoring the way his stomach growled. It was as if a small dragon was living in there, and it was becoming furious for not having any new prey. Well that dragon would have to shut up, he couldn't eat anything. He wasn't hungry, anyway.

Looking across the field in front of him, Marty noticed a group of girls in his year walk past. Jennifer was amongst them, seeming cheerful and perky, just like she had been when she was going out with Marty. That was until recently, obviously, because all he'd done was make her feel miserable. He felt awful for it - he was dragging her down on his sinking ship of a life. It only seemed fair that she would grab a lifeboat and escape. She seemed so much more happy now that he wasn't in her life. She deserved someone so much better, and she'd gotten just that.

The bell rang, eventually pulling Marty back to his senses. He gathered his things and trudged back to class. Physics, great. He ambled in, took his seat and threw his bag down under the table carelessly. The teacher made sure everyone was there before starting the lesson. She drew some diagrams on the chalkboard and it wasn't until halfway through the lesson did Marty realise she was talking about electrical components. More specifically, _capacitors._

"Now the way a capacitor is designed, it is essentially two plates fixed at a distance from each other. Direct current can't pass through them, because.." The rest of the teacher's words were mute to Marty as all he could hear was Doc's voice.

" _The flux capacitor is what makes time travel possible,"_

Marty shook his head, trying to push those memories from his mind. Doc didn't want him near him, so Marty didn't want to see him either.

Nope, he was lying. He _did_ want to see Doc. That's all he'd wanted for the last three months. He just wanted to talk to his friend again.

The bell rang, signalling the end of the day. Marty breathed a sigh of relief as he collected his things and left swiftly. Another day gone. He could finally go home and be alone. He didn't want anyone near him. Anyone he'd ever met only seemed to hurt him; he didn't know who to trust any more. As he walked out the school gates and back towards his house, a pale brown mess of fur nearly knocked him over.

Einstein.

The dog jumped up, barking and wagging his tail. Marty pushed him away and kept walking, keeping his head down. He would have kept walking too, if it hadn't been for the voice that froze him in his tracks.

"Marty!"

Marty stopped walking instantly, his heart pounding. He didn't turn round to face Doc, but answered anyway. "What?"

Doc ran over, Einstein back on his leash. "Marty! How are you?"

"Alright, I suppose," Marty muttered, still not looking at the scientist.

Doc walked round the teenager and, against his will, Marty looked up at him. Doc couldn't disguise the shock on his face as he took in Marty's condition. His face was thin and pale, his neck clearly showing veins. His blue eyes had dulled to a near-grey, and they were cold and empty, nothing like how he knew them. Marty was looking at him as though Doc was another person who picked on him, because, in a way, he was.

"Great Scott, Marty, what happened?" He asked, frowning. He clearly showed concern for the teenager, something he hadn't shown in a while.

"What would you care?" Marty muttered, walking past him. A huge part of his brain was screaming at him to turn round and tell Doc everything, but that huge part was dwarfed by the rest of him, telling him to get out of there.

Doc was clearly taken aback by Marty's sudden tone of voice, and jogged to keep up. "Marty? What's wrong?"

"What do you _think_ is wrong?" Marty spat, hissing in pain as Doc grabbed his arm.

Doc wasn't an idiot, and he wasn't oblivious to Marty's wince. He frowned. "Marty, show me your arm."

"No," Marty's facial expression changed again and he suddenly turned and ran. It took Doc a few moments to recognise what he'd seen in the young man's eyes: fear. He sighed as he watched the teenager disappear from view around a corner.

Marty kept running. He'd just nearly spilled his secret to Doc. He couldn't do that. He hadn't expected Doc to be out, walking Einstein, right at the minute he was walking down that _same street_ on his way home from school. Doc didn't want anything to do with him, did he? So why did the scientist care about his wellbeing all of a sudden? What did it matter to him, now that Marty was safe from all his "dangerous experiments"?

He was out of breath by the time he approached his street. His running slowed to a gentle walk and he shoved his hands back into the pockets of his hoodie. The hood was pulled up over his face and his head was down. His heart was still pounding, more from the shock than the exercise. He was absolutely fuming. Doc had distanced himself from Marty for _three months,_ then suddenly out of the blue he asks him what happened? What right did he have, caring about Marty?

 _Because he's like your family._

He didn't know where the thought had come from, but it was enough to cause tears to well up in his eyes. The worst part about that voice was that it was right. Doc _was_ like family. Heck, he was probably closer to family than his actual family were. He'd cared about Marty, and by the concern shown in the man's face, he clearly still cared.

 _Great one, Marty, you just keep fucking up, don't you? Way to go!_

"Shut up," Marty muttered in response to the voice in his head. Those thoughts had made him feel ten times worse than he had earlier. Maybe his penknife could solve that problem.

Oh, who was he fooling? No it couldn't. No matter how hard he cut or how many times he sliced his skin, the emotional pain he was feeling wouldn't go away. It _would never_ go away, not until he was able to talk to Doc again, and work on projects with him, and just generally be around him.

This was for Marty's own good, huh? Being bullied to the point of self harm was for the best, was it? Or was it that Doc was just fed up with him being around? 'Cause there was no way in _hell_ that being bullied at school, having no-one to talk to at home, his ex-girlfriend avoiding him completely and Marty cutting himself on a regular basis were _healthy._ It wouldn't be a surprise to the teen, knowing that his "best friend" had had enough of him being around. That would just make Doc like everyone else.

 _But he's not. He cares about you._

Marty scoffed as he walked up to his front porch. Did Doc really care about him? Because it sure didn't seem like it. If Doc _really_ cared, he wouldn't be letting Marty continue with this. He'd help him stop it. Marty turned the handle to open the door, but it didn't budge. The family car wasn't there either, and the teenager didn't have a key with him. Perfect. Just fucking perfect. He sat down on the doorstep as it began to rain. This day was just getting better and better, wasn't it?

It took an hour for anyone to show up. Lorraine came trudging up to the front door and unlocked it. She appeared to be pretending that Marty didn't exist, due to the way she walked past him and into the house. He followed, dumping his bag in his room and shutting the door. He figured all parents of teenage boys would know by now that their sons tended to spend time alone in their rooms, and knew not to disturb them. Had Lorraine in fact opened Marty's door, she would have found him sat in the corner, knees pressed against his chest and tears running down his cheeks.

Marty felt completely and utterly helpless. He had no-one who would actually understand what was going on and offer support. He had no-one to talk to about his problem. Anyone he knew would just shove him away and tell him to stop being so pathetic. He couldn't tell the teachers at school - they'd phone his parents and then it would all go to heck. He was weak, there was no denying it. He was done trying to act tough. He was done trying to ignore what people were saying, because by now it had become the truth. He was done with it all.

He knew there were people in the world who had it worse off than him: people whose homes were destroyed in tsunamis or earthquakes. People living in extreme poverty. People living miles from any source of water. Now that he thought about it, he was actually pretty well-off. He lived in a nice, safe house with a family. This just made him feel worse. He was being so _selfish._ Here he was, sitting in the corner of his bedroom crying, when a lot of kids his age probably didn't even _have_ their own bedroom. He constantly wasted food, when someone in a third world country would be grateful for anything they could get.

He was a disgusting human being.

…..

Doc was pacing around his garage. He _knew_ that had been Marty, but the teenager looked so… broken. He wasn't happy, the scientist could clearly tell. Something was really wrong. It looked as though Marty hadn't eaten in a while, he was so thin. His blue eyes were almost grey and it looked like he'd lost the will to live. Doc had also noticed bruises around Marty's face, something else to be worried about.

Wait.

It was his fault. It was Doc's fault that Marty was like this. He knew the teenager saw him as his best friend, and he felt the same way. Ever since he'd told Marty to keep away from him, the teenager must have been upset. Clearly, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. The teen had looked so angry and hurt. He hadn't smiled when he'd seen Einstein, not like he usually did.

Then there was his arms. Doc had grabbed one and Marty had clearly winced. Then he'd looked _scared_ about telling him and had run off. That was a serious problem. Marty couldn't be…. could he? No, the teenager was too intelligent for that. But then again, he'd looked so broken. Doc guessed it was a possibility, but just hoped that wasn't the case.

 _Only one way to find out, I suppose._

Doc walked over to his phone and pressed in the numbers for Marty's phone. Quite frankly he'd be surprised if Marty answered, judging by the destroyed look on his face earlier. He then took a deep breath, and pressed the call button. There was a solid block tone from the other end, followed by a call centre.

" _The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later,"_

Doc let out a frustrated groan. He tried again four times, only to get the same answer. He sighed and sat back down on the sofa, running a hand through his mess of white hair. This wasn't good. He couldn't get a hold of Marty, so now who knew what would happen? He had no idea what the teenager was doing or where he was, only that he'd obviously disconnected his phone. The kid must have known Doc would try to call him. Doc was worried. He didn't know whether Marty's parents knew about Marty's state, and he could only hope that they'd help him out. Doc would just have to try and see Marty in person again.

…..

Marty sat on his bed, looking at the cable that once connected his phone to the mains electricity. He'd put a pair of scissors to it. He didn't feel as though he deserved to be contacted, and he knew after their brief meeting earlier that Doc would try to phone him. The scientist had told Marty to stay away from him, and that's just what he was doing. Tears burned in his eyes again. That was something else he hated - the fact that he kept crying. It was just another piece of evidence to show how weak and pathetic he was. Crying was a sign of weakness, after all.

He threw the scissors back in the drawer and slammed it shut before getting up. His mother had told him dinner was ready a couple of minutes ago, and he may as well show up. He pulled the door open, his arms feeling like lead, and headed to the dining table. Some sort of chicken pasta dish was waiting for him. At least that's what everyone else saw; all Marty saw was some cooked grey mush. It tasted like it too, and again he didn't eat very much of it. He was busy pushing a piece of chicken around his plate when his father spoke to him.

"You seem very quiet, son," George glanced at him, swallowing a mouthful of pasta. "Everything alright?"

 _No, everything isn't alright. I'm depressed, angry, upset and I keep hurting myself._ "Yeah, just feel a little ill, that's all, I'm fine," Marty replied, managing a weak smile.

Linda was curling her hair at the dinner table - again - when she looked across at him. "Still moping about Jennifer dumping you?"

Marty shrugged and kept pushing the chicken around in circles.

Lorraine straightened herself in her seat. "I didn't like her, Marty. She was just asking for trouble, going out with someone at her age,"

Marty just rolled his eyes and pierced the chicken on his fork, attempting to chew and swallow it. It stuck like glue to the roof of his mouth and he forced it down his throat, grimacing.

Linda kept talking, and Marty just wished she would shove those hair curlers down her throat. "She was a tramp, anyway,"

Marty clenched his teeth. "No, she wasn't," he muttered. His dinner had gone cold by now, but he didn't care. It was still tasteless grey mush.

"She's going out with Alex, isn't she? That jerk who hangs around with Tiff,"

Marty froze. _That_ was her new boyfriend?! Alex?! The twat who had nicked Marty's skateboard, pushed him around constantly and repetitively punched him? How could Jennifer go out with someone like _him?!_ After the way he'd treated Marty, Marty was sure that Jennifer would hate his guts too. But if she was going out with him, that must mean she saw Marty the same way everyone else did: as a weak, pathetic little idiot.

"It'll be alright, son," George said, patting Marty's arm. Marty tried not to wince. "There's plenty of other fish in the sea,"

 _That's easy for you to say, Dad. Mom's the only girl you've ever had._

"Your father's right, dear," Lorraine added. "You're better off without her,"

"Excuse me," Marty stood up from the table, leaving his quarter-eaten food on the plate, and headed back to his room. He shut the door behind him and fell to his knees.

He couldn't believe it. Jennifer had dumped him - the guy she'd been with for two years - for some jerk who was bullying him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't exactly Marty's fault that he was getting bullied. If it was anyone's fault, it was Doc's. _Doc_ had abandoned Marty. _Doc_ had caused Marty's life to take this dark turn. _Doc,_ the man Marty had spent many afternoons with, helping him work on projects, testing those projects and just generally being his friend.

It must be that Doc was sick of him being around. Yeah, that was it. Doc had suddenly decided that Marty was too dense to help him with any projects, so he'd told him to get lost. Well Doc could take those projects and shove them up his nose, because Marty didn't care any more. Everything he used to have was ripped from him and torn to pieces before his eyes. It was as if someone had given him a puppy for his birthday, and then had brutally murdered that puppy right in front of him. It made Marty sick to the stomach.

Well, you know what? Marty didn't want to see Doc ever again. If the scientist clearly didn't care about him any more, then why should he care about Doc? He'd given up so much of his time to help Doc out, and this was how Doc repaid him? Tearing his life apart? Doc had seemed so nice, kind and caring. Now look what had happened.

 _I guess he really is insane, just like everyone said._

Marty felt bile rising in his throat, but swallowed it. He wasn't going to be sick. That would mean his parents would have to give up some of their time to care for him. He didn't want to be any more of a burden than he already was. He'd already caused too many problems as it was. No, he would just keep turning up to school and getting picked on, because he knew deep down that he deserved it. He deserved to be hurt, he deserved to be called names. He deserved to be pushed around and treated like shit. It made people happy to see him that, and he didn't want to disappoint them.

…..

Marty couldn't take it any more. The insults had gotten worse. Now, pushed through the small gap in his locker, he kept finding horrible notes.

 _Just kill yourself already._

 _No one likes you, so why keep trying?_

 _Just go and die. It'd make us all happy._

Marty took a handful of the notes and screwed them up in a ball, tears forming in his eyes. He slammed the locker shut and threw the notes in the trash, before grabbing his bag off the floor and heading to class. He didn't even pay attention to what subject it was, he just sat down and kept his head down the whole time. The teacher's words flowed in one ear and out the other, completely ignored by the depressed boy.

The images of those notes and what they said swam around in his head like angry sharks, constantly snapping at him and taking bites out of his already destroyed conscience. He tried to push the idea of suicide from his mind, but it just kept coming back. He didn't _want_ to die. He didn't want to pitch himself off a bridge, or overdose on some pills, or slit open his wrists. He wanted to keep on living, in the mild hope that this would all stop.

When he found more notes at lunch (the handwriting was the same on several of them, indicating people had written notes multiple times), he just kept throwing them away. He couldn't let anybody else see them. Not a teacher, definitely not, or things would just get so much worse for him. If he told the teacher about this, the people making his life a misery would just be even more furious. Then he'd get beaten up more, and things would be unbearable.

He tried his best to ignore the comments thrown at him in the hallways between lessons, but when he found a larger note stuffed into his bag - probably when he wasn't looking - he couldn't take it any more. Everyone wanted him dead, did they? This was what they wanted? To see him take his own life? He'd already lost everything, what more could they take from him?

He left that evening. After saying goodnight to his family and going to bed, he got fully dressed again and snuck out the window. He headed towards the train bridge - he knew the trains stopped running at about eight in the evening, so right now, at half ten, it was deserted. He walked along the tracks until he was in the centre of the bridge, right over the top of Clayton Ravine. The fall beneath him was huge, there was little chance of him surviving it.

He climbed up onto the railing on one side of the tracks and looked down. This was it, he couldn't turn back now. Nobody seemed to care about his existence any more, so why should he?

Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and slid off the bars, plunging into the darkness below.

 **...**

 **A/N: CLIFFHANGER :'D**


	10. Help

A week.

That's how long it took for anyone to find his body. He had been lying at the bottom of the ravine for a week when the officers found him. He was badly broken, bleeding and ice cold. It took another three days to determine how and when he had died.

It became obvious after that. Martin Seamus McFly had taken his own life by jumping off a bridge at 10:35pm on Tuesday 16th February 1986. Investigators found the notes stuffed into his locker at school and had managed to find the people responsible for writing them. Nobody had thought he would actually _do_ it. They all thought of it as just another insult, but it had escalated into something much worse. Newspapers were printed the day after he was found, Wednesday 24th, and news reports on the television were all over the topic for days.

Doc was devastated when he picked up a newspaper on that Saturday and the bold title glared at him. " _Troubled teenager commits suicide by falling from bridge,"_ was written in thick, black letters across the front page, along with a picture of the crime scene. They didn't show his body, of course, but the image displayed the area of the ravine he had fallen into, surrounded by police tape. Below it, a smaller photo of Marty was displayed in black and white ink, along with some text explaining what had led to his death.

The investigators had found all his scars and had put two-and-two together. They had also noticed how thin he was. They'd questioned his parents, who were completely confused and upset by the situation. Lorraine admitted seeing Marty's loss of appetite, but she said she had no idea it was like this. She thought he was just ill. George was also completely upset - he thought his son looked a little off, but he said nothing more on the subject. Had he just _talked_ to Marty about the situation, maybe his son might still be alive.

Doc couldn't help but feel responsible for his best friend's death. He'd told Marty to stay away from him, which had clearly made the teenager upset. He'd even _seen_ Marty a couple of days before he died, but did he try and help? No. He could have gone round and talked to him when the teenager didn't answer his phone, but _no,_ he just sat there. He had the ability to go round and see how his friend was doing, but he just _had_ to decide to leave him be.

And now Marty was dead.

Doc sat in his garage, holding the newspaper in his shaking hands, unable to believe it was true. Four months ago, Marty was a cheerful, energetic, lively and caring young man. Until recently, he was depressed, quiet, suicidal and he clearly didn't care about himself any more. The reports said that Marty's body was covered in bruises and cuts too old to have been from the fall. Most of them were on his torso and face, and were believed to have been from punches. The cuts all over his arms were from an obvious source, which just made Doc feel even more guilty. He'd seen Marty wince when he grabbed his arm, and the thought of his friend self-harming crossed his mind, yet he still did nothing.

He could have prevented this. He could have prevented all of this. He could have stopped his best friend committing suicide. As Doc thought about it, he still _could._

He was such an idiot! He had a freaking _time machine_ for God's sake! The time and place were all on the newspaper. 10:35pm on Tuesday 16th February on the bridge over Clayton Ravine. He could easily stop this from happening! How could he not have thought of this sooner?!

Doc took the newspaper with him as he quickly rushed outside to the DeLorean and got inside. He turned the time circuits on and set the destination time for 10:20, Tuesday 16th February 1986, fifteen minutes before Marty was due to jump off the bridge. He pulled out onto the road (luckily it was deserted - it was seven in the evening) and pressed his foot firmly on the accelerator. The car shot forward and gained speed, the speedometer gradually creeping closer to eighty-eight. When the car reached that speed, it vanished in a flash of blue sparks and fire trails.

The car gradually slowed down once it arrived at its designated four-dimensional coordinates, and Doc immediately drove it towards the bridge. He parked the car next to the train tracks on the Hill Valley side of the ravine, and got out. He sat on the hood of the car with the paper and waited for Marty to arrive.

…..

Marty climbed out his window and began walking towards the train tracks. He kept his hands in his pockets and his hood up to hide his face. He still had tears running down his cheeks. He truly was a coward, a _chicken,_ just like everyone said. He was throwing himself away because he was scared of being a burden to others. He couldn't take it any more. Every time he showed his face at school, he was picked on. Nobody had batted an eye when Tiff had grabbed him by the neck of his hoodie and slammed him into the lockers, getting Michael to hold him down while Tiff kicked him. Nobody had come over and talked to him when he was sat on the bench, clearly freezing, and throwing all his lunch away. Nobody asked what was the matter when he'd found those notes in his locker, and he'd turned up to the next lesson still blinking tears away. Nobody cared.

His parents didn't notice, his brother was always out and his sister clearly was too "busy" to notice. His family were hopeless when it came to emotional help, anyway. Linda was too stuck up, George and Dave were practically the same, childish, and his mother was too absorbed in her alcohol. The teachers would only accuse his family of being careless, and the news would spread like wildfire. A rumour about him being suicidal on top of all the other rumours was the last thing Marty needed in his life. He couldn't handle this any more. It was too much. He just wanted to curl into a ball and vanish. Unfortunately, as this was impossible, suicide was the next closest thing.

Jumping into the ravine should do it. His body could vanish and people could get on with their daily lives. If he overdosed on medicine at home, his parents could call an ambulance and it was likely he would live. That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to vanish, to fade into thin air, so that people would just _leave him alone._ He just wanted people to leave him be. He'd rather blend into the crowd than be singled out for all the wrong reasons. Yeah, the ravine would keep him hidden for a while. Maybe then he'd finally get some peace.

As he approached the bridge, his footsteps crunching on the ground, he noticed the front end of an all-too-familiar car poking out behind a tree, and he stopped walking. He should have predicted that this would happen. Damn it, why wouldn't people just let him die?

Doc heard the footsteps and looked up. He immediately got off the hood of the car and walked over to Marty, the newspaper tucked into his pocket. He frowned. "Marty?"

Marty tried to keep walking, to pretend that he hadn't noticed Doc, but the way he was holding his head and the tears running down his cheeks gave the game away. He felt Doc pull on his shoulder gently, and he stopped walking.

Doc put both of his hands on Marty's shoulders, looking the teen over. The look of complete and utter helplessness on the teen's face said it all, and he gently pulled Marty into a hug.

Marty tensed up for a moment, before he fell to his knees, pulling them to his chest and sobbing violently. Doc knelt beside him, keeping his arms firmly around him. Marty wrapped his arms around Doc's neck and hugged him tight, burying his face in his shoulder. The scientist rubbed his back, pulling the hood from Marty's head and keeping the teen close. He sat back, resting Marty on his knees, rubbing his back and comforting him.

"It's alright, Marty… it's okay," he murmured, laying his chin on Marty's head as the teen continued to shake, although his sobs had somewhat quieted.

Marty laid against Doc's shoulder for a while, taking deep breaths and he gradually calmed down enough to talk. "Th-thanks,"

"It's okay... " Doc smiled. "I'm glad you're okay,"

Marty nodded a little and sat on the ground. He looked at the scientist warily. "You can keep a secret, right Doc?"

"Yeah," Doc nodded. "What is it?"

Marty pulled his hoodie off and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his arms and the many cuts on them. Doc was startled to notice that some of them were fresh. The teenager looked away, embarrassed. "I couldn't help it, and when I'd done it once, I did it again," he mumbled.

Doc frowned and gently pulled Marty's sleeves down again to hide his arms. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the newspaper, before showing it to the teenager. "This is how I knew,"

Marty looked over and took the paper in his hands. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open as he read the front page. He felt a lump in his throat and he teared up as he kept reading. He couldn't believe people had actually cared that he was missing. He couldn't believe how upset his parents sounded when the investigators had discovered his dead body in the ravine. He read the reports from some of the people in his school, noticing how they all seemed to say that they thought it was a joke. He scoffed a little. _Yeah right._

"This nearly became reality," Doc said, watching as the newspaper articles changed to something trivial about sports and celebrities. "Had I not come here, you would have jumped off of the bridge and this would have been the future,"

Marty gulped a little and put the paper down. He sat with his knees to his chest and staring at his feet. "Man, I didn't think anyone cared that much,"

"Cared that much- Marty!" Doc exclaimed. "Of course people care about you! Your family, Jennifer, Einstein and me, you have lots of people who care about you." He sighed, putting an arm around his friend. "I know it may not seem like it, but you have lots of friends here."

"Why are you even here, Doc?" Marty's mumbled question made Doc look at him in shock. "I thought this was for my own good,"

"I was a fool to think that it was," Doc sighed. "I let myself believe that I was a danger to you, but by distancing myself from you I only made the situation worse," he looked at Marty, genuine guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry,"

Marty shook his head. "Don't be, this only happened because of me. If I wasn't so pathetic-"

"Marty don't say that," Doc pulled him into a hug again. "You're not pathetic. You're not weak. You're not stupid. You're not anything those horrid people say you are," he rubbed Marty's back again. "You're kind, caring, witty, intelligent, lively and truly the best friend I've ever had,"

Marty smiled a bit. It wasn't a full-on grin, but it was a proper, genuine smile, something he hadn't shown in three months. "Thanks Doc… that means a lot,"

Doc smiled. "Come on, you'd better get home," he said, getting up and pulling Marty to his feet. "I'll give you a lift back,"

Marty frowned. "I… I don't know if I _want_ to go back home," he murmured.

"Why not?"

"Because my family… they… I don't know," Marty shrugged, putting his hoodie back on. "They just don't seem anything like me,"

"Marty," Doc said firmly. "You are much more like your family than you think you are. It just might take you a while to realise that,"

Marty frowned, but headed towards the car anyway. He grabbed the newspaper and tossed it into the back of the car.

"Now Marty, you'll have to remember that you can't speak a word of this event until after seven pm on Saturday 28th February, alright? I travelled back in time from then," Doc told him as he got into the driver's side.

"Right," Marty nodded. "Or else your past self will be really confused,"

Doc chuckled. "I'll see you in a week then," He smirked, driving back towards Marty's house. He dropped the teen off outside his front door."Oh, and Marty?"

"Yeah?" Marty turned round, already halfway to his door.

"Don't tell your parents about your arms," Doc said as he sped off down the road, hitting eighty-eight miles per hour and returning to his time.

….

Two days after Doc got back, Monday 2nd, he was glad to see that Marty was still alive. The teen was much more relaxed now, but he still kept wearing the hoodie to hide his arms.

He turned up at Doc's that afternoon, looking more pissed off than upset.

"What happened?" Doc asked as he invited him in.

"I kept finding these stupid notes in my locker," Marty dumped a handful of the pieces of paper on the table and flopped down onto the sofa.

Doc looked over the notes, and his frown deepened in concern at the repetitive content on them. "Why haven't you told anybody about this?"

"Because then the people _sending_ the notes would find out and I'd be in even more trouble," Marty sighed.

"You can't let this continue!" Doc waved a finger at him. "This is completely outrageous!"

"I'm scared I'll get beaten up again if I tell anyone," Marty muttered, staring at his feet. "I get shoved around enough as it is,"

Doc sighed, taking a seat next to Marty. "The problem will only get worse if you let it continue."

"I know Doc," Marty sighed, sitting forward and putting his elbows on his knees, resting his chin in one palm. "I just don't know what else to do. Ever since Jennifer dumped me I've had nobody to talk to,"

"I suppose I could give the school a call and let them know what's going on," Doc suggested. "That way it won't seem as though you were the one to tell on them,"

"But everyone knows I hang around with you, I reckon they'll put two and two together and figure out that I told you,"

"It's better that they know," Doc replied. "At least that way the school will be able to put an end to it, if not at least make it less of a problem,"

"I guess," Marty shrugged, still not sounding particularly enthusiastic about the idea. His hair fell over his face and he tossed his head to move it out the way.

Doc took that as a "yes" and started dialling the school reception. He drummed his fingers on the table as he waited for someone to answer.

" _Hill Valley High School, how can I help?"_

"Hello, this is Doctor Emmett Brown, I'd like to report something that I've found rather worrying,"

" _What is it?"_

"Marty McFly is currently being bullied by some of the students in his year. I've noticed he keeps showing up bruised and recently he's been finding notes in his locker from people which keep telling him to kill himself," Doc explained.

" _That does sound rather worrying, Doctor Brown. Do you know who has been leaving these notes?"_

"Tiff Tannen, Michael Corleone and Alex Roberts," Marty whispered.

Doc repeated the three names to the woman on the other end of the phone. "Marty believes that there are others but those are the only three people he knows of definitely at the moment,"

" _I shall talk to the headmaster about this and try to get it sorted, Doctor Brown. Thank you for bringing this to our attention."_

"No problem, goodbye," Doc hung up the phone and grinned at Marty. Marty grinned back.

"Thanks so much Doc,"

"Well I certainly couldn't let this continue," Doc replied, sitting back down again. "This is completely unacceptable and horrid behaviour, and I don't like seeing you upset,"

"Hopefully now I should be okay," Marty sighed. "Either that, or the problem will get worse. The best case scenario is that they get expelled,"

"Let's hope that be the case then," Doc nodded. "I don't want these notes to happen again,"

"Neither do I," Marty muttered. He felt Doc pat his shoulder, and smiled. He looked at the scientist to see that he was smiling back.

Things were gonna get better from here.

…

 _ **SLAM!**_

Marty's head hit the lockers hard as he was thrown back, quickly being pinned there, his feet off the ground, by Tiff.

"Nice going McFly," he growled, his face inches from Marty's. Marty coughed slightly as his foul breath drifted into his face. "You've got me in a lot of trouble,"

"You only brought that upon yourself," Marty retorted. "Telling someone to kill themselves? That's low, even for you,"

Marty was slammed into the lockers again, harder this time. "You deserved it, you little freak!" Tiff growled. "You and that insane scientist are both the same - _freaks!"_

Marty growled and kicked Tiff in the groin. "Hey! Leave Doc out of this!"

Tiff stumbled back and let Marty fall to the floor, still glaring. He grabbed Marty by the back of the neck with one hand and smashed his fist into Marty's stomach.

The wind was knocked out of his lungs as Marty collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, one arm wrapped around his stomach. Tiff snarled and kicked Marty in the ribs, watching with a smirk as Marty fell over, and he continued to kick him.

The sound of the bell ringing made him stop, and he stalked off to class, leaving Marty grimacing in pain on the floor. Marty struggled to his feet, one hand on the lockers to support himself, as he trudged towards his next class.

…

Marty was still clutching his side when he arrived at Doc's place later that day, twenty minutes later than normal. He could have sworn some of his ribs were broken. He also had a cut on the back of his head from where he was repetitively slammed into the lockers, and the blood had dampened his hair and caused it to stick to his head.

He knocked on the door, still feeling dizzy and nauseous. He wasn't sure how he was going to hide this one from his parents, maybe Doc could help him out with that.

The scientist opened the door, and was immediately concerned about the teenager's condition. "Great Scott Marty! What in the name of Sir Isaac H Newton happened?!"

"Tiff Tannen," Marty groaned as he all but collapsed onto the sofa, still clutching his side. "He kept shoving me into the lockers and he kicked me in the ribs a good few times too,"

Doc frowned and got the first-aid kit he always kept in case one of his experiments went wrong. He got a small bowl of clean, warm water and began dabbing at the back of Marty's head with a damp cloth. "This is outrageous," he muttered. "How on Earth was he able to get away with this?"

"I told you," Marty relaxed slightly as the warmth of the water soothed the throbbing pain in his head. "Nobody cares. They all just walked past while I was lying on the floor being kicked,"

"Then I'll call his father and tell him," Doc replied, an air of finality in his voice.

"Doc no! My dad works for him, and if he finds out that his son has been in trouble because of me, my dad will get the sharp end of the stick," Marty sat up and looked round at the scientist. "Biff Tannen is _not_ to be messed with."

"I'll tell him that if he has any problems, he's to speak to me directly," Doc replied. "If your father gets any issues from him, tell me and I'll phone the police,"

"I don't know Doc," Marty sighed, lying back again as Doc began to bandage his head. "I don't want Biff causing you trouble as well,"

"I'm sure I can handle him," the scientist grinned. "After all, I suppose I could set Einstein on him if he got violent,"

Marty laughed. "No way, Einy wouldn't hurt a fly!"

"Biff isn't a fly, though, is he?" Doc chuckled. As if in response to this, Einstein barked and began playing with an old piece of rope, biting it and pulling it around.

Marty laughed, sitting up straight as Doc finished bandaging his head. The teenager instantly regretted that decision as he let out a yelp, pressing his hand firmly against his side again.

Doc frowned. "I think it would be best if you went to the hospital to get checked. You could possibly have broken ribs,"

Marty sighed. "Alright,"

Doc clapped him on the shoulder and headed towards his truck. Marty grabbed his stuff and followed him, his hands back in his pockets. He climbed in as the scientist started the engine and headed off.

….

"Well, Mr McFly, the scans show that you don't have any broken ribs, but you've got some pretty nasty bruising on your right side," the doctor explained, showing the two men an X-ray taken of the teenager. "I recommend getting plenty of rest, and if you can, try to avoid walking to school. How far from school do you live?"

"A mile and a half, it usually takes me forty minutes to walk that," Marty replied.

"Well if you can avoid walking to school for a week, you should feel perfectly fine after that," The doctor nodded, heading back to his work.

As Doc and Marty were walking back towards the truck, Marty ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "I-I… I can't get a lift to school,"

"Why on Earth not?" Doc looked over to him.

"My dad takes the car every morning at seven to go to work," Marty frowned.

"Well what time do you leave?"

"About eight, if I'm walking. If I was getting a lift it would be twenty past,"

"Well I'm sure I could drop you off," Doc offered.

"I don't want to be a burden, though," Marty replied, getting in the van.

"It would be no trouble at all," Doc smiled, starting to drive towards Marty's house. "The doctor said it would be best, so don't strain yourself by walking,"

Marty smiled. "Thanks, Doc,"

Doc grinned. He pulled up outside Marty's place a few minutes later and the teen hopped out, the strap of his bag draped over one shoulder and his hoodie under his arm.

"See you tomorrow!" Doc called as Marty shut the door and the van drove off, vanishing round the corner.

...

 **A/N: Great Scott! Just about 40,000 words on this story! I wasn't expecting it to be this long! Sorry if the end of this chapter was a little naff, I'm not great with lots of dialogue between characters.**

 **I was writing this with my Marty McFly and Dr Emmett Brown Pop! Vinyl figures sat on the table next to me. They were probably staring at my computer and thinking "wtf". Or in Doc's case: "Great Scott, Marty! It's about us!"**

 **I think I broke the fourth wall. Oh well.**

 **To the guest who reviews this story: Thank you so much for all the continued support. It really means a lot to me, knowing that I'm entertaining people. Thank you!**


	11. Too much

Sure enough, at twenty minutes past eight the following morning, Doc had parked his van outside the front of Marty's house. Marty came out a couple of minutes later, stuffing his Walkman into his bag and nearly tripping over his own shoelaces.

"Hey Doc," The teen grinned as he climbed in, still trying to get everything in his bag. The teen had his body warmer back on, something he hadn't worn in a while. It felt good to wear it again.

Doc raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, you overslept?"

Marty looked sheepish. "Yeah, my stupid alarm clock broke," he said, pulling the door shut.

Doc drove the truck off the driveway and began heading towards the high school. He cast a sideways glance at Marty. "You've got something in your hair,"

"Huh?" Marty brushed his hands over his hair, and sure enough a small feather fell out, floating gently down to his lap.

Doc chuckled. "You're lucky you're getting a lift, otherwise you'd be late by now,"

"Yeah, and then Strickland would have my head," Marty rolled his eyes. "The guy prides himself in making everyone's lives miserable,"

"He's just doing his job, a job that isn't made easier by kids being late," Doc pointed out.

Marty tried to hide the smirk on his face. "Guess so,"

A few minutes later, Doc stopped outside the high school and Marty got out.

"Have a good day," Doc called. "Try and stay away from Tiff,"

"As if I'd actually _want_ to find the guy," Marty called back, shutting the door and waving as the truck drove off. He felt much more cheerful today, despite the fact that his side still hurt. He was wearing a baseball cap to hide the bandage still around his head (Doc had insisted that he kept it on to be on the safe side) and he'd abandoned the black hoodie in favour of his usual red body warmer. His eyes were the happy bright blue again, with a mischievous spark hidden in them. He took a deep breath and walked into school.

That day was a whole lot easier than Marty thought it would be to start off with. People didn't shove him around as much, and he actually managed to pay attention in lessons, something the teachers found to be a good thing. Of course, all good things must come to an end, and they did at lunch time.

Marty was sitting in the canteen. He'd decided against sitting on the bench because he actually wanted to mingle for the first time since Christmas. As he was eating, Tiff, Michael and Alex showed up.

"Oh, hey guys," Marty greeted them nonchalantly, not really paying then any attention.

Tiff didn't seem to like that, and he sat opposite Marty at the table, Alex next to him and Michael plonked next to Marty. "What are you so happy about, freak?"

"Nothing. I just realised how pointless it is to be upset by your trivial attempts at being threatening," Marty replied. He continued to eat his sandwich, almost ignoring them.

"Well look who's talking!" Michael scoffed. Michael was a scrawny guy with a face like a rat, his greasy hair plastered to his head and he always seemed to be wearing a pair of 3D glasses for some reason.

Marty just simply shrugged and kept eating. He let out a yelp when Michael grabbed the back of his body warmer. It wasn't zipped up, and the garment was pulled off Marty. The smaller teenager growled and tried to snatch it back.

"That's mine!"

"Yeah, I know," Michael sneered. "That's why I've got it,"

Marty sighed and sat back down. He figured if he ignored them, they might get bored and go away.

Tiff grabbed Marty's arm. "Look at us when we're talking to you, freak," he snarled. Marty tried to pull away from him, but Tiff still had a firm hold on his sleeve. As Marty tried to pull again-

 _ **RI-I-I-I-I-PP**_

The whole sleeve got torn away. Marty's forearm was now bare, and the scars still littering his skin were fully visible. While the three boys around him were dense, they were at least intelligent enough to know what had _caused_ those scars. Marty gasped and immediately pulled his arm close, trying to shield it. He knew it was no use - the sound of the shouting had caused everyone's attention to be brought upon him, and now everyone had seen his arm.

Tiff sneered. "What's all this, McFly?" he asked, eyeing the boy's arm.

Marty gulped, and quickly grabbed his bag. He managed to grab his body warmer back off Michael and sprinted down the hallway, tears forming in his eyes. He had been determined to keep that a secret, but now _everyone at school knew,_ including Tiff.

Marty came to a stop just outside the front of the school building, his heart racing. Thankfully he still had his shirt on underneath the torn jacket, and he quickly rolled the sleeves down to his hands to hide his wrists. He'd abandoned his lunch, but he didn't care at this point. He'd had enough to eat and didn't fancy going back inside just yet.

The bell rang ten minutes later, and Marty had no choice but to go back inside. He walked to his math class, keeping his arm tucked close to him. Most of the class were talking, and before he walked in the door, he could overhear some of their conversations.

"Did you hear about Marty's arms?"

"-littered with scars-"

"-mental wreck-"

"-self harm-"

As he walked in the door, the room went silent, all eyes on him. He sighed and walked to his seat and sat down, getting his book out. The teacher took the register and began teaching as normal.

But Marty's mind was in other places. He could feel the stares of everyone around him burning into the back of his neck, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He noticed the person next to him, a girl named Amy Hatfield, staring at his arm as if trying to see the scars underneath. When Marty pulled his arm closer to his body, the girl coughed awkwardly and looked away.

Marty breathed a huge sigh of relief as the bell rang at the end of the day, and he quickly grabbed his bag and left the room. As he went out into the hallway, he could still hear people talking about him. His ears burned and his cheeks went red as he headed towards the school gates. He wasn't surprised to find Doc's van parked on the sidewalk outside, waiting for him. He smiled; at least he had Doc to talk to.

He pulled the door open and got in, but Doc wasn't there. He shrugged and pulled the door shut. That was when he noticed Doc and Mr Strickland having a rather heated conversation. Strickland was jabbing his finger at Doc while Doc looked plain furious. They appeared to be shouting at each other, drawing attention from some of the students.

Dumping his bag in the van, Marty hopped out and walked over, his arms crossed.

"You're a delusional madman and a danger to society!" Strickland yelled. Marty could have sworn he could see the veins in his bald head pumping.

Doc glared. "I'll have you know that not _one_ of my experiments has blown up in the last year!"

"Quite frankly I'm surprised you haven't been committed yet!"

"Ahem," Marty coughed, raising an eyebrow. "Mr Strickland is he bothering you?"

"Yes! Yes he is! Maybe you've finally realised wha-"

"Good," Marty cut him off with a smirk, grabbing Doc's arm and pulling him towards the van. Strickland's seething face was lost amongst the crowd of people filing out from the school.

"Well played Marty," Doc smirked as he got in the van, the teenager joining him.

Marty shrugged. "The guy's an asshole, Doc."

"So that was the infamous Strickland. I pictured him taller," Doc chuckled to himself as he drove off.

Marty snorted. "He only looks short to you because you're like six foot tall."

"I only look six foot tall to you because you're short," Doc countered.

Marty glared, elbowing Doc gently. Doc jabbed him back, and the two of them sat in silence for about thirty seconds, trying not to laugh. They both failed, and soon started laughing like idiots.

Once he'd caught his breath, Doc noticed Marty's torn sleeve. "What happened?"

Marty's expression suddenly changed, and the depressed look on his face came back. "Tiff grabbed my arm at lunch and as I tried to pull away from him, the sleeve ripped off and everyone in the canteen saw my arm. They were all whispering about it in my math class,"

Doc frowned. "Hopefully they'll be sympathetic towards you,"

Marty shrugged. " _Hopefully,"_

Doc looked over to him and patted his shoulder. Marty smiled. The van soon approached Doc's garage and he pulled in, turning the engine off. Both men got out and headed into the garage.

Marty was met by a cheerful and barking Einstein, whom he greeted equally as cheerfully, ruffling the dog's fur. Einstein wagged his tail and barked, jumping up at Marty. Doc smirked as Marty seemed to brighten up with the presence of the dog.

Doc waved for him to follow him over to his desk, where a complex piece of machinery sat. "It's a new addition to the DeLorean, it should hopefully reduce the speed required to travel through time," he explained, getting some tools.

Marty helped Doc fix some new parts on to the machinery, as the scientist explained what to do. Marty couldn't help but smile to himself as he worked. He'd missed being able to do this, he'd missed hanging out with Doc like this. It didn't take long for the two of them to finish, and Doc started the machine to see if it would run. It worked well for about ten seconds, before something went wrong, and it started shaking.

Doc pulled Marty to the floor, just as the machine exploded. Pieces of metal flew everywhere and Einstein hid behind the couch, whimpering. Smoke filled the room, and covered the faces of the pair. Their hair was blown back (Doc's even more than usual) and they both looked startled.

Their eyes met, and they both burst out laughing. The machine had been a complete and utter failure, but neither of them seemed to care. They just laughed and cleared up, throwing the disintegrated remains away and wiping the smoke from their faces.

"Well, that went well," Marty chuckled.

Doc shrugged. "Oh well, better luck next time," He replied. He checked the clock. "It's six o'clock ready to go home?"

Marty sighed. "I suppose so, I'm starving," he shrugged, grabbing his bag and flattening his hair down. He followed Doc out to the truck and got in.

The scientist drove towards Marty's house, and once there, he noticed Marty's parents were waiting outside. They ran over to him as he got out, looking worried yet relieved.

"Marty! Oh my gosh are you okay sweetheart?!" Lorraine gasped, quickly pulling her son into a hug, which Marty returned.

"Mom, I'm fine, honest," he smiled a little.

George soon embraced his son too, and Dave and Linda stood on the porch, both showing genuine concern. Marty gave them a shy wave, a faint smile on his face.

Doc got out of the van and walked over, grinning. George went over to him, shaking his hand frantically.

"You saved my son's life," he stammered. "We can't thank you enough,"

"It was no trouble at all," Doc insisted, grinning. "Marty's my friend,"

Marty smiled over his shoulder at him.

Doc waved to him as he headed back into his truck. "I'll pick you up at the same time tomorrow, alright?"

"See ya then!" Marty called, watching as Doc drove the truck off the driveway and around the corner of the street. He followed his parents back into the house. They were still asking him if he was alright, checking him over and asking him about the scars on his arms. He tried to answer as best he could, but he left out some details.

" - Tiff spent a lot of time sending me those notes," Marty said, but was cut off from finishing the sentence as George gasped.

" _Tiff Tannen?!_ That little - I'm going to tell his father!" He exclaimed.

Marty ran a hand through his hair. "Dad, don't. I don't want you getting in trouble with Biff,"

George looked a little scared of the idea, but didn't say anything more.

Marty sighed. This was going to be tough.

…..

"So it sounds like school was a bit better today," Doc said. He'd just picked Marty up from school, and the teenager had told him about how the day had gone. It wasn't as bad as yesterday, mostly because now people understood why he had been feeling the way he was. The majority of people were sympathetic, and the ones who weren't ended up getting a lot of harsh looks. Jennifer had dumped Alex after hearing that he had been one of the main people sending the notes to Marty.

"Yeah, I managed to get through the day without being punched, which was good," Marty nodded. "Hopefully that'll be the end of it and I can just go back to being me,"

Doc grinned. "I'm sure you'll be fine,"

Marty smirked. As the van pulled to a stop outside Doc's place, he hopped out. Doc got out too and walked over to the front of the garage.

The loud roar of a car engine made them both whirl around. It was Tiff Tannen, with his usual gang of cronies. They'd been in serious trouble after the teachers had found out what had been happening to Marty, and to say they were pissed off was a complete understatement. Tiff's snarling face was behind the windshield as he drove the car directly towards the pair.

Marty didn't think twice about what he did next. He saw the car driving straight towards them, and with all his strength, he shoved Doc to the side, out of harm's way. The front of the car struck Marty hard, probably at about fifty miles per hour, and he was thrown back with a sickening crunch. The car steered out the driveway and went haring off up the road, out of sight.

Doc had fallen over, but when he looked up, he found Marty sprawled on the ground on his back. There was a large gash on the side of his head. He was out cold, his leg bent at a horrific angle and his side coated in blood. The scientist let out a scream, before running into the garage to dial 911. Once he was informed that an ambulance was on its way, he ran back outside.

Marty was silent and still, not moving at all. Faint gasps of breath escaped his mouth, indicating that he was still alive, but barely. Doc knelt beside him, keeping the teenager against his shoulder, one arm supporting him, the other trying to slow the flow of blood from his side. He was ghostly pale and gradually going cold, making Doc begin to panic.

The five minutes it took for the ambulance to arrive seemed like five years, but as Marty's unconscious body was loaded into the vehicle, he sighed in relief. At least now Marty could get some help. He headed back inside towards his phone, planning to call the McFlys. He quickly dialled the number and waited anxiously for a response.

" _Hello?"_ George answered.

"Hello, George, it's Emmett," Doc took a deep breath. "I don't want to have to tell you this, but… Marty's been hit by a car,"

Doc could hear George nearly drop the phone. " _What?! Who was driving it? Did you see?"_

"Tiff Tannen," Doc replied. "He attempted to hit both of us, but Marty pushed me out of the way. Tiff drove off immediately after he'd struck Marty,"

"I'll be at the hospital in fifteen minutes," George replied, putting the phone down as he went to tell Lorraine.

Doc grabbed his coat and immediately got back into his truck, driving towards the hospital. His mind was in overdrive. He'd seen the state Marty was in, and he knew for a fact that if a person was struck by a car going at 40mph, there was a 20% chance of them surviving the hit. Anything over that and the chance of their survival decreased rapidly. At a speed of fifty miles per hour, there was an incredibly slim chance of Marty making it.

He screeched to a halt in the hospital parking lot twenty minutes later and got out, locking the van while simultaneously trying to pull his jacket on. He ran towards the front doors and noticed that George and Lorraine were sat in the waiting room.

 _Of course,_ Doc mused. _Marty must be in the OR._

Catching his breath, Doc walked over to them calmly, noticing that Lorraine was sobbing and George himself looked teary. He took a seat beside them, patting Lorraine's arm. She looked up and quickly wiped the tears away.

"Thank you for calling us," she said, her voice hoarse. "If you hadn't we may have not found out until much later,"

Doc nodded. "I'm sure Marty will be alright," he said, although he wasn't so sure himself.

George let out a shaky breath. "I hope so, he's already been through too much, things a boy his age should never have experienced."

Doc nodded, lowering his head. He wished that he'd been the one who had been hit, Marty was far too young to have been almost killed by a car.

Soon, a doctor came out the OR and walked towards them, a grim look on his face. Doc swore he felt his heart stop - that expression could only mean the worst.

"Well, he's alive," the doctor said. "But.. I'm afraid he's going to be unconscious for a while, we've had to put him into a coma so that he can recover from the damage,"

Lorraine looked as though she'd been slapped. "He'll be okay, though?"

"He should be fine, although he had some serious damage to his organs and ribcage. Most of his ribs broke, causing one of his lungs to be punctured." The doctor gestured for them to follow him to another room, where some X-rays had been taken of Marty and were being displayed in front of a light box. He pointed out the teen's injuries. It was clear that he'd taken quite a beating from the car. "He's incredibly lucky to have survived. The surgeons didn't think he'd make it, on account of the injuries he sustained."

George kept his arms around Lorraine, who had tears running down her face again. Both parents nodded. "When will we be able to see him?"

"Straight away, although," the doctor cast a glance towards Doc, "Family members only until others are given consent,"

George nodded, and with that, the three of them followed the doctor towards the room where Marty was. Doc remained outside while Lorraine and George went inside.

From the sobbing heard from Lorraine, Doc could tell that the situation wasn't good. He waited nervously, and after an hour, the two McFly parents reappeared. Doc was allowed to go in and see Marty. He got up, took a deep breath and walked inside.

His heart skipped a beat.

Marty was still, aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest. An oxygen mask covered most of his face, and he was hooked up to an IV and a monitor. The green line that beeped frequently indicated that he was still alive, but he didn't look it. He was almost as white as the bedsheets. His right leg was in a cast, being supported by straps keeping it elevated. When Doc took one of his hands, it was cold. It was hard to imagine Marty looking so broken like this. There were no sleeves over his arms, so the many scars still covering his skin were fully visible.

Doc sat there in silence, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Marty had been seriously injured by preventing Doc from being hit by a car. Rage boiled up inside the scientist. He would have a few choice words for the Tannens when he saw them. There was no way Tiff was going to get away with this. It was unacceptable. With any luck he would be arrested.

Of all the people in the world, why did this have to happen to Marty? The teen had only just stopped self-harming, and Doc had not long ago saved him from committing suicide. His emotions were not fully on track yet, and he was still underweight, and now this had happened. Marty didn't deserve any of this to have happened, and what was worse was that Doc couldn't use the DeLorean to prevent any of this from happening. If he messed up the timeline so that the events which sent him back never happened, then the whole space time continuum would be destroyed. Not to mention the fact that he'd already gone back once, to save Marty's life. Anything else he did to further alter the timeline could have catastrophic consequences.

No, he'd just have to hope that Marty would be alright. The teenager was strong-willed enough to get through this. He'd recover, get better again and he could finally resume his life as a normal teenager. So much had happened to him in such a short amount of time, it was unbelievable.

"Come on Marty," Doc murmured, squeezing the boy's hand. "You'll be okay, I promise."

….

 **A/N: Sorry for no update yesterday, I was out all day in a place with limited WiFi. I can write using Google Docs (the system I'm using for this) on my phone but it's really slow.**

 **Thanks so much for the reviews! It's getting really intense and it's great that I know people are supporting me! Thanks again, so much. It really means a lot!**


	12. Epilogue

" _Marty? Marty can you hear me?"_

Was he underwater? His hearing was muffled and he couldn't feel anything. He could have sworn he heard a voice, but he couldn't recognise it at all. He shifted ever so slightly, gripping the blankets and frowning.

" _Marty? Kid, can you hear me?"_

 _Am I… dead…?_ He pulled his eyes open weakly, before shutting them again as the bright light nearly blinded him. His chest felt like it was on fire, and he could feel something pricking his arm. After a few moments, he pulled his eyes open again, slowly, and allowed them to adjust to the light.

He felt someone squeeze his hand, and he gently squeezed back, attempting to turn his head to face the person. His head began to swim, so he laid still. Whoever it was moved to sit on the side of the bed, and Marty noticed through his blurry vision that it was Doc.

"Thank goodness you're okay," Doc sighed in relief, squeezing Marty's hand again. "You've been unconscious for a month,"

 _A month?!_ The sight of Marty's eyes widening indicated to Doc that he was surprised, although he didn't say anything.

"Yeah, the doctors didn't think that you'd survive. They were wrong, eh?" Doc chuckled lightly. "You were put into a medicated coma to allow your body to recover,"

Marty nodded slightly, coughing a little bit. His throat was dry and sore. He tried to say something, but all he managed was a weak croak. He felt completely and utterly helpless.

Doc appeared to understand the croak, as he left the room to get a nurse. He returned with her a minute later, and the nurse carefully removed the oxygen mask before putting a straw to his lips, placed in a cup of water. Marty drank carefully, and the water immediately soothed his sore throat.

"Th-thanks…" he mumbled, still drowsy from the medications. The nurse nodded and headed out again.

"How do you feel?" Doc asked softly, sitting on the side of the bed again.

"Like complete shit, to be honest," Marty replied quietly, letting a small smirk play onto his face. "It really fucking hurts,"

"I'm not surprised," Doc said. "The doctors said you're lucky to be alive,"

"I don't _feel_ lucky," Marty muttered.

"You'll be fine," the inventor assured. "In two months, you'll feel as though nothing happened,"

Marty nodded. "What about Tiff?"

Doc grinned at that. "He was arrested. Him and his goons. The police questioned them and they admitted it, so they were taken away. Biff tried to get your dad for it, but George phoned the police and he was arrested."

"What about my dad's job?"

"Well, Biff got fired and your dad now works for someone else. He told me they're much nicer,"

Marty sighed in relief. "Good,"

Doc squeezed his hand again, smiling. Marty squeezed back before frowning. "So… how bad is it? My injuries, I mean,"

Doc sighed. "Well, the doctor told us that the majority of your ribs were broken, and that one of your lungs had been punctured. You had quite a bit of internal bleeding, a concussion and your leg is broken in three places."

Marty cringed. "Geeze, no wonder I feel like shit,"

Doc ran his thumb over Marty's hand gently and the teenager relaxed at the touch. "It'll be alright, Marty, I promise,"

Marty nodded numbly, beginning to drift off again from the medication. He squeezed Doc's hand again before going still.

Doc sighed. It was apparent that Marty wouldn't be leaving the hospital for quite some time and he dreaded to think what the hospital bill must look like. He squeezed Marty's hand again before getting up. He left the teen to get some sleep and headed out.

….

Marty was sat up in bed, propped up with some pillows and reading. There wasn't much else he could do at this point. He was told he had to remain in the hospital for another two weeks until he was deemed fit enough to leave. Being stuck in bed sucked, there was no doubt about it. He kept getting pins and needles from being forced to lay down all day and he couldn't sleep on his side due to his leg.

There was a knock on the door and putting his book down, Marty looked over. "Come in,"

The door opened and Doc walked in, a grin on his face. "How are you holding up?"

"Not too bad, I suppose," Marty shrugged. He pushed himself to sit up a little more in the bed.

Doc sat on the chair next to him. "I nearly blew up the DeLorean the other day," he said casually.

Marty looked at him in wide-eyed shock. "Jesus Christ Doc! What happened?"

"I had to take the flux capacitor apart to fix a part that was malfunctioning, and I ended up getting the screwdriver wedged in it. It started smoking and I had to disconnect the main power source," Doc cringed.

Marty laughed. "Well done,"

Doc whacked him lightly round the head. "You've done much more daft things,"

"Hey!" Marty yelped, but ended up just smirking. "True, like that time I ended up skateboarding right into the wall and caused half a dozen clocks to fall off,"

Doc smirked. "Exactly,"

Marty rolled his eyes.

They spent the next hour or so just chatting, Marty talking about what the nurses were like and Doc giving him updates on what was happening with the Tannens. Apparently Tiff had been given a two-year sentence, to be fulfilled when he'd finished his exams. His car was taken away and eventually resold, and his trio of goons were given six months in jail each. Biff had been looking for another job somewhere, but had been so far unsuccessful.

It seemed as though Marty's life was getting better.

…

After the two weeks had passed, Marty was finally let out of the hospital. Waiting for him outside, in the parking lot, was Jennifer. As he approached her on his crutches, she ran over to him and threw her arms around him.

"Oh my God Marty! I'm so sorry! I'm such an idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa Jen calm down!" Marty hugged her tight. "It's okay, seriously, it's alright,"

Jennifer pulled back and Marty could see that there were tears in her eyes. "I'm such an idiot! I thought Alex was a nice guy but he was driving you towards suicide,"

"Jen, relax," Marty squeezed her hand. "It's alright, I'm not mad, I promise,"

Jennifer nodded and wrapped her arms around him again. He pulled her into a kiss. They pulled apart after a minute, and Jennifer laid her head on Marty's shoulder.

A car horn beeped, breaking the two apart. It was George. "Come on, you two!" He called, leaning out the window.

Marty coughed, going red in the face, before going over to the car and getting in. Jennifer joined him, holding onto his hand.

George looked in the rear-view mirror at them as he began heading home. "So Marty, how are you feeling?"

"Better than I was two weeks ago," Marty shrugged. "Still a little bit dizzy and my leg aches,"

"That's to be expected, I'm afraid," George replied. "It'll be that way until it's healed properly. You'll get used to it, believe me,"

Marty just nodded, keeping an arm around his girlfriend. Jennifer laid against him, just happy that they were back together again. Yep, things could only get better from here. Tiff and his goons were in serious trouble, Marty's dad was no longer working for Biff and the two teenagers were going out again.

George pulled up at Jennifer's house to drop her off. She gave Marty a quick peck on the cheek and said she'd call him, before going inside. George waved and took Marty back home.

To say that his mother was glad he was out of hospital was an understatement. A cake was waiting on the table for him when he arrived, and Dave, Linda and Lorraine greeted him, smiling and hugging him. He told them that he was absolutely fine, but it still felt nice knowing that his family were there to support him.

Over the next few weeks, Marty received outpourings of sympathy and apologies from various classmates, teachers and even kids he'd never met before. He didn't care about wearing short-sleeved shirts, everybody already knew about his scars so why bother trying to hide them. He was told that they would heal better that way. His grades went up in class, now that he could focus without getting distracted by harsh comments or cruel notes. He spent just as much time at Doc's place as ever, helping him work on projects (although Doc had been strict about leaving the DeLorean alone for a while) and just generally hanging out.

He managed to pass his exams with flying colours (well, by his standards anyway) and graduated. During the summer, he got back into playing guitar, and one could find him for many hours a day at Doc's place, using the amplifier the scientist had built. He still skateboarded around, much to Doc's chagrin, but was more careful when going on the roads. He didn't want yet another accident to add to the list.

Marty McFly, now aged eighteen, could finally begin to look ahead to the future. Not the apocalyptic nightmare he and Doc had spent a week or so in, the _real_ future.

He was finally content.

...

 **A/N: The end!**

 **Cheesy ending is cheesy, I know. Oh well.**

 **So yeah, that's it. It's over, and can now sit in the archives of FF for all eternity. Or at least until the website gets shut down. I know this chapter is shorter than all the others, but it's an epilogue, what do you expect? I was running out of ideas for this, so I decided to bring it to a close. Sorry if it seems a little disjointed, or unrealistic, or whatever, but I think it works well. It might be a little sudden, but with over 40,000 words and 103 pages on Google Docs (I'm not kidding, that's how long it is, even without all the author's notes) it's the longest story I've written so far. And probably the best.**

 **Thank you for all the support, it's really kind and I'm so grateful for it. It really made my day knowing that people were actually reading the angsty stuff I produce.**

 **Thank you for joining me on this, and before I start sounding like a documentary narrator, I'll shut up.**

 **~ BlackNightmareDragon 2015-2016**


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